500 Years on the Run
by laugh4life
Summary: Through Katerina Petrova's eyes, this enticing and fanatical story tells the prequel to The Vampire Diaries shows. Find out secrets about Katerina's 500 years on the run, the events that led up to it, and why Katerina is where she is now! K/S later on...
1. The Early Beginning

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Vampire Diaries**

**Enjoy the story! Please write a review after!**

_**Bulgaria, winter of 1490**_

Through my tears and cries, I try to see it. Is it a girl? A boy? I have always imagined him as a little baby boy. Mother, so kind and loving, holds him at such an angle that I cannot see over the mound of crisp sheets around me. I crane my neck, trying to see through all the tears of hurt and happiness that I have.

"It's a girl." Abigail tells me what I wish to know. She stands in the corner, away from everything, but still close to the scene. Abigail is a kind lady, and next to Mother, Father and my new child, she is the one I love most.

My eyes widen at the possible truth, "A girl. Please mother… let me see her."

I reach out my slender arms, eager to hold my daughter for the first time, as Mother comes a few steps closer to the bed that I lay on in the musty room.

"Woman, don't. What are you doing?" Father barks at my mother from the wooden doorway, making her turn away from me automatically.

Father is more of a heavyset man, though not from laziness. He is strong; there are more muscles are in his body than any outsider could guess. Though strict most of the time, and always forceful, he can be mild in his own way, though it is rare and only on occasions where he has had an easy day of hunting. Mother is fair and gentle with everything. She is quiet around the house, behaving as a woman should. She mends and cooks, brews ale and gardens. The servants help most everything; tending the animals, cleaning, and even Mother's chores when she needs help.

I feel my eager expression crumble, replaced with one of desperateness, as I register the words. "Let me at least hold her once, Father! Just once… at least once." I plead, to hold my daughter at least one time, like every mother should be able to do.

Father looks sharply at me. "Forget it… you have disgraced this family!" He lifts my baby girl from Mother's arms and, without even a glance back, walks through the door, ready to give his granddaughter away to some stranger, just like she is an outsider's baby, not mine.

Tears stream down my face as I claw my way out of the tangled mess of sheets to get to my child. "Father, please! No, Father…. No!" I cry, filled with a horrible feeling of angst.

Mother rushes to my bedside, tears running down her face also, and gently pushes me back into the beige sheets, holding me back, as I squirm and yank at her tight grip, from my newborn. "NO! No, Katerina. It's better for her! It's better for her!"

Antagonized, I struggle a bit more with Mother, knowing that I won't be able to change either of their minds, however. "No, mother, please!" I sob.

Slowly, my angst wears off, and I am left with a dull, hollow feeling in my chest as I grip Mother in a tight, fierce hug, my face buried in her shoulder.

"Let her go… let her go, Katerina."

"Please, Mama…" I whisper, as one last attempt to make her rethink their decisions and let me be with my darling baby girl, who I am likely to never see again.

_**- Later on -**_

The tears of sorrow and pain that I had have long dried by the time Father returns. I look away, still, however, unable to endure the unbearable pain that I feel for my child, and the guilt that I feel for myself for letting them take her away.

I should have put up more of a fight, if possible. I should have convinced them long ago to let her grow up in the house that I did, to not hide the awful truth from our friends and family, to let me keep my child and raise her myself. But I did not do any of these things to stop the sequence of events that had just gone on, and so I have to face the consequences and burdens for my actions, just like any soul does.

Father turns to face me, his face quite serious and determined. Mother stands behind him, for no matter how strict he is, or how he treats us, she defends him out of fear and, still, unconditional love.

"Katerina," he looks at me with a mixture of sadness and remorse, "as you likely know, you have shamed this family with your absurd actions."

"I know, Father, and I am remorseful for all the trouble I have caused." I bow my head, knowing what will be thrown upon me next. Clasping my hands tightly, I slowly raise my head to meet his gaze as he prepares to say those dreadful words that no rightful person wants to hear.

Father looks at me for the last time, as does Mother, when they finally speak their previous thoughts out loud, for my ears to hear this time. Father, dear, loving, strict Father, says, "Regardless, you shall have some time to think about your actions on your own time. Thus, we disown you from this family. "


	2. A New Way of Life

_**England, spring of 1490**_

My back slides down the rough brick wall as I crouch on the dirt floor of the narrow pathway to rest for a few minutes. My legs are sore from all the walking that I have done today to finally reach England. Now that I am here, I do not know exactly what to do with myself. This town is so different than my hometown that I am overwhelmed with the new sights, noises and smells.

In many ways, it is what I had expected, but it also is very different from what I had speculated it would be. The narrow streets are continuous throughout, as are the brick, and more often, wooden homes and buildings. The people are neither rude nor spiteful, but they do not address me with kindness like people of Bulgaria would. They ignore me unless I speak up first, though it is most likely due to the state of my ragged clothes and haggard appearance.

The disowning of me from the family was smoother than I would have thought. Mother and I cried, knowing that we would miss each other; Father did not. He simply allowed me the clothes I was wearing at that time, two keepsakes, a bag of food that lasted a few nights but now is long gone, and a few extra garments for the cold weather. Considering all, Father was rather kind.

One of my keepsakes is a necklace; a wooden cross around my neck that Mother made me when I was young and stuffed it with an herb called _Vervain_. She had said then that it kept away the bad demons and monsters, and she had told me the childish stories that her mother had told her. The other keepsake was a quilt that Mother had sewn from our old clothes, and although it looked nothing like clothes, it was a relatively warm quilt.

A while back, I gave the quilt to a family with children, who provided me with shelter and provisions for nearly a week. They were a generous family and the children were so sweet. After that though, when I needed the quilt to sleep outdoors, I regretted the generosity I had learned from them.

A few nights ago, I was restless that night in my sleep and so I ended up sleepwalking into the forest. Assuming my theory is correct; I had tripped over one root or another, and landed myself in such a way that digging into my knee was a pile of fragments of sharp rocks. This all happened because I did not have a blanket to be tangled in while I slept. It is quite tragic what a loss of a simple quilt allows one to do in ones sleep.

Tenderly, I lift my tattered skirts and touch the wound on my knee, very lightly. It hurts very much, even with the slightest movement or touch, for it is quite deep. It is scabbing over in an ugly shade of brown, and yellow liquid keeps appearing in it no matter how I clean it, making me consider it fully nauseating.

Looking around the shady alleyway in the England streets, I ponder where I shall sleep for the night, and where I could acquire dressings for the bleeding wound. One of the many merchants is sure to need help with some sort of task or work. I could offer my services, sewing or mending or cooking or cleaning, in exchange for some necessities, like shelter and food. Maybe they would tell me where I could go to stay for another night, or maybe they would offer me a wash. I need to wash up badly; tromping through the dirt roads and wildlife the past few days can make an individual very dirty.

Having no choice, I wearily pull myself back up onto my feet yet again, ready to do what is required for even scraps of food and shelter in this town. Emerging from the gloomy shadows into the sunlit road, I glance around, surveying my surroundings to see who looks kind enough that I could possibly offer my services to them. The market is quite large; it holds various stands that include many unusual objects and rare foods that I have never seen before.

Before I do anything else, I look around, noticing a secluded horse trough that is filled with what has the appearance of nearly clear water. Seeing no horses nor people around, I walk over to it and dip my hand in it, sniff it, and determine that it is in fact every-day water. Quickly, so as that nobody sees, I wipe the dirt off of my arms, neck, and face, making sure to look even halfway acceptable. Then I dip my head down into the water, washing away a month's worth of dirt from my hair. Although I do not have one necessary factor, soap, this is a luxury compared to what I've had to wash up in earlier this year after Mother and Father banished me from the home and my hometown.

I close my eyes, enjoying the sensation of water in my hair again, feeling it silky smooth with its now clean state. Slowly squeezing the water out of it, I run my fingers through it, frowning, for I now realized another problem in my trough-wash plan. Since my hair is so thick and full, I will need a brush to get all the stubborn knots out.

I sigh, seeing a new way of life, a harder, more difficult one, where I can acquire much less than I could before. A simple brush is more difficult to obtain than I could have imagined in this way of life. I squeeze the remaining water out from my dripping hair. Flipping my damp hair over my head and onto my dry back, I change into my spare, and less worn, dress. After zipping it up, I turn around and come face to face with a kind looking young man holding a horse by its bridle. He eyes me, his eyebrows raised in wary confusion and surprise. Smiling softly, I look him up and down, deciding what to tell him about my state and why I would be changing in such an unrespectable place.

The young man appears to be quite a few years older than I, maybe eighteen or even twenty. He has dark brown hair, bright green eyes, and is quite muscular. He is not heavyset like Father, but he is not skinny either. He wears the outfit of a gentleman, the normal houppelande, shirt, doublet and hose, with velvet on most visible parts and fur trimmed. He looks trustworthy but mischievous, and is very, very handsome.

"Charlotte?" his confusion and surprise turn to shock and fear, and he lets go of the bridle in one smooth movement, letting the horse run away. I tilt my head, not sure who Charlotte is, nor why she would look like me.

"No, sir, I am not the Charlotte you call me. Ah, I am truly sorry about my unusual use of the trough, but I had needed to wash up after many days of travel." I say.

"Such a beautiful young lady should not be traveling by oneself. Surely you have an escort?"

"Nay, sire, I have no escort in this travel. It is but my lonely self, walking for days on end. May a handsome gentleman ask to be my escort, however, I may accept..."

"Not only a beautiful woman, but humorous too," He raises his gorgeous eyebrows, smiling. "May I ask your name, woman?"

"Katerina Petrova, sir. And your name?"

The young man looks surprised at my name. He hesitates before answering.

"Such a lovely name for such a stunning young lady, Katerina. Elijah… Salvati, at your service. Please, call me Elijah. It is a pleasure to meet you."

"As it is a pleasure to meet you, Elijah." I smile, tucking a loose curly strand of hair behind my ear.

Elijah grins shortly, and then he says, "Are you positive that you have never encountered a Charlotte?"

"No, not that I remember at least. May I ask why the matter is so urgent that you would ask, well, a stranger, that you have never met before might I add, about a specific girl that they are not likely to know?"

Smiling wryly, Elijah says, "You have the spitting image of my old acquaintance, Charlotte, but I see that you are not like her at all, personality wise." Out of nowhere, Elijah frowns, his face puzzled, "Ah, are you hurt?"

I lift up a corner of my skirts, showing him the wound, "Why yes. During my sleep a few nights ago, I fell. Quite clumsy of me. Unfortunately, I am no healer, but I am pretty sure it is not being dressed correctly." I say sheepishly.

Elijah nods, "Did you come with any supplies for your long journey, miss?"

"Yes I did, but it was limited to one quilt and a bag of food, which did not last for even a week. The quilt I lost to a family a while back, and so now I am cold, and for the most part hungry, during the chilly nights." I hint.

He smiles a wide, full smile, making me feel giddy and afraid at the same time. "Would the fair maiden care to rest and wash up? My… cousin, is housed nearby. I am sure he would not mind a lady in his home. I stay there whenever I come to town, including now. We currently have enough provisions to last a lifetime, and we could always obtain more. One of the servants would be able to dress the wound correctly. Surely you, such a sweet lady, cannot turn a warm, safe night down?"

I tilt my head down slightly, looking up at him through my long brown eyelashes. "It would be so very kind of your cousin, if he would grant me just one night of warmth."

"Of course. Shall we be on our way?" Elijah asks, walking over to the corner and picking up my garments.

"Yes, Elijah." I jump on his horse, fully trusting all of a sudden. I smile at him warmly as he gets on, after strapping the garments to the side of the horse, and he repays my smile with a grin of his own. Glancing back at the bright town and the little crevice with the wooden trough, I say, "Ride on."

_**-An hour later-**_

Swinging my legs over the saddle, I jump off, looking around with awe.

The vibrant colors of the foliage are so different from any back home. Everything catches my eyes, so that I am looking back and forth, my sight filled with wonder, back and forth.

The trees are emerald green; a dark, majestic green. The rose bushes are also green, though they are a completely different shade of it. For loss of words, they are a lighter, gentler version of the emerald green of the trees. The white roses, with pink around the edges, make a field of polka dots on the large bushes. The wild grass reaches my calves, so light and springy, it waves in the slight breeze. I lift my head to the sky, expecting a different, deeper blue than the one at home, but smile upward, closing my eyes, when I see that it is the same light blue as always.

The trees encircle the wide open field, enclosing the meadow with beauty. From where I stand, there is a cobblestone pathway leading far through the field, to opposite side, where a house awaits us. Lining the wide pathway are countless flowers, including various ones that I know well from home; roses, chrysanthemums, lupines, peonies, daisies and… so many more. The reds and oranges, purples and pinks… the blues and yellows and greens, all together make the ground appear as though it is covered with a quilt, just like the ones Mother used to make, with all the colors of the rainbow…

Tears prickle at my eyes, threatening to pour over such a silly thing as flowers. Blinking quickly, I banish those tears for now.

Focusing on the house that the pathway leads up to, I gasp in awe.

The house is so very different than the ones back home in Bulgaria. Instead of the wooden walls I thought the structure would have, I find magnificent white Italian marble walls that stretch above the trees. The house, large in Bulgaria standards, looks as though it has… two levels? No, that couldn't be right, I think to myself. It is foolishness to think such a thing. It must have very tall ceilings, for it to reach that high toward the sky.

There are twelve windows, I count, and that large wooden door. The door, also, extends far above our heads, towering down on us. It is a rich mahogany color, perfect in contrast to the creamy white of the building itself. Above the entryway, there is arch extending out a ways, protecting visitors from the severe weathers. There are four branches that I can see to the exquisite house. The main branch is where the entryway is, in the middle of the estate. Two others are connected closely on either side of it, symmetrical. The last branch is not connected that I can see, but isn't too far away from the main branch. I assume that it is the servants' quarters.

I gaze up at the great wooden doors, tracing the pattern running through it with my eyes. Suddenly, the doors shudder as they open, revealing a man in the extravagant foyer.

The man does not notice me standing off to the side. "Ah, Elijah! Now what are you doing back here so early in the day? I thought you had decided to spend a day in town." The man says, his stance showing great authority. He moves swiftly to a tense Elijah, tilting his head in question when he reaches him.

"I had. But I had a run-in with a young lady, and assuming that she could… be of _help _later on, I brought her back here." Elijah nods toward me, making the man turn.

He has straight, nearly white but blond colored hair that is pulled back into a ponytail and beady but large blue eyes. He is taller than most people, and wears gowns grander than Elijah's, covered in many colors of velvet. He wears the typical turnshoes, the pointy leather shoes with the weather-proof slip on them.

His beady eyes look me up and down from strides away, filled with interest and alight with wondrous surprise.

"Another one," he breathes in astonishment. Puzzled, I look to Elijah for clarifying, but he stares straight ahead.

Meeting the man's penetrating gaze, I say, "Hello sir. Your cousin said that I would find assistance and warmth for the night here." I keep my voice polite and light as I speak.

"Of course. You are welcome to spend a few nights here, resting. Let me introduce myself. My name is Klaus. It is an honor to be of service." He smiles tightly, staring piercingly at me the entire while.

"Katerina Petrova, sir," I curtsy, feeling as though it is needed, "Thank you for your courtesy. I look forward to getting to know you and your cousin, Elijah, here."

"Petrova, you say... Ah, my cousin? Oh, yes, Elijah…" Klaus muses.


	3. A Serious Flaw

_**England****, spring of 1492**_

Elijah and Klaus had convinced me to stay, after just one night. However, I am glad that I did, for the two men are terribly kind, always asking if I need something. The people of the town are just as nice. Everyone is so friendly, now that I've gotten to know them.

I have found my home, in this cheerful place, I believe. The people of the village I have come to know fairly well. It is nice; now that I live with Klaus and Elijah, the people of the village respect me like they do Klaus and Elijah. I have come to know many of the children as good friends, and am quite fond of the youngest daughter in the Bennett family, Anny. She is five years old and an absolute sweetheart. She is one of my best friends in the town.

Elijah and Klaus also are good friends to live with. They keep their distance, but still check up on me every day, making sure that I do not need anything. Or if I do need something, they bring it quickly enough.

Elijah is a cheerful man, always in a good mood every time I see him. Except for supper and some early mornings, I barely ever see him. He had decided to stay for more than a few months. In fact, he has been living at his cousin's since the day that I came, nearly two years ago.

Though Klaus keeps to himself and wears a mask of calm whenever I see him, I know differently. Recently, I've caught Klaus in the study hunched over work, muttering to himself about a stone. Even when I cough to alert him that I am there, he does not seem to notice.

The nicest thing either of them have done for me is teach me how to read and write. Most of the time it is Elijah, although it is sometimes Klaus, who will come to my bedchamber to teach me, saying that one day, all women will have to know how to do these things. Since it is rare for men to know it, even, I sincerely doubt that it will ever come in useful for a woman, not during my lifetime anyway.

Though both of these men, Klaus and Elijah, are friendly enough, I prefer to be in Trevor's company, a friend down the road who often visits Elijah. The two men usually exchange foreign objects that they had gotten a hold of, or they talk quietly in the study, conversing over what I believe to be events of the town.

Trevor is a kind man, not much older than I, maybe a few months difference. He has brown hair, and hazel eyes that constantly zigzag like a child's, always observing the events going on around him. He has a habit of biting his lower lip, which makes him all the more funny. He is such a sweet soul…

Smiling, I creep up on him, ever so quietly, through the long waves of grass. He sits on a bench connected to the side of the horse barn, murmuring softly to the brown and white horse that he holds by a bridle.

Standing a hand span behind an unobservant Trevor, I say very softly, "Hello."

He startles anyway, jumping off the bench in a blur, making the horse whinny in protest. The movements are almost too quick for my eyes, I realize.

"Damn it, Katerina. You frightened me!" He says, grinning despite the scare, "What is it now, my fair maiden?" Trevor steps closer to me, the bench being the only thing separating us now.

"Why, Trevor, you make it sound as though I am only here because I need something. Now, you know that this is not true!" I beg, looking at him with wide, teasing eyes.

Growing serious, I am careful not to get mud on my dress as I sit down on the wooden bench, patting the seat beside me, beckoning Trevor to do the same.

Trevor briefly hesitates, and before he sits on the opposite side of the bench, he silently and cautiously ties his horse up in the old wooden barn. Sitting there, with Trevor by my side, it is quite peaceful, with the wind lightly blowing my curly hair all around.

We sit in silence at first, listening to the birds chirping on this sunny day. My mind starts to wander to the past, as my eyes slide over that perfect meadow scene…

_The Study held a large collection of books that I looked at in awe; I had just discovered the Study, after having been living at the house for nearly half a year. The men had a fair collection of books, more in one place than I'd ever seen before. I had fingered the bindings of the books in wonder, the leather fastenings were intact and the pages were not torn or ripped in any way. The leather was smooth and soft under my fingertips as I pulled out the largest, oldest looking book. _

_My eyes slid over the word-filled sheets as I flipped the stiff beige pages, taking in every detail of the uncommon artifact. The words were slanted and bolded and they flowed from one to the next, ever so smoothly to make something large, just like threads in a quilt do. In the middle of the page that fell open, halfway into the book, was a yellowing slip of paper folded over many times. _

_As I shifted the book with my weight, the slip of paper slid from the book and onto the floor behind the desk. I had glanced guiltily toward the door, and then when I saw no one, I had bent down to pick the slip of paper back up, when I had found it. _

_The wooden floor was covered in a beautiful carpet, and the slip of paper had wedged itself tightly underneath it. My fingers gripped the paper as I strained to get it out. I lifted the carpet to see the cause of the catch, revealing well-worn mahogany flooring. There were many notches in the wood, and although it was many planks lying side by side, I noticed that the second plank cut off shorter than all the others. It also was the one that the paper was stuck under._

_Feeling uneasy, I dug my nails into the crack between the boards and planned to pry it up just a little, enough to get the paper out. Instead of the plank being difficult to pry up, I found it surprisingly easy. It was a bit too easy, because it was not secured with nails. It had hinges that let it open and close without a sound. My eyes widened in shock as I saw the mystery of what was inside, and then, my shock changed to fear as it registered in my mind. I was in danger._

_With shaky fingers, I reached into the slot and pulled out the yellowing slip of paper that I had originally dropped in there, tucking it back into the book and putting it all away, so that I didn't forget to do it later. After walking back over, I look one more time into the hole, and the first thing I saw was my own face peering back at me. It was a drawing dating back to two centuries before, the caption of it calling the lady Charlotte. My mind reeled, no logical explanation coming to mind as for why or how this could be in there. _

_Lifting the paper out, I snoop through the hole, now wondering what else could be in there. A pad of paper is right underneath the drawing, many words scribbled on it seemingly in a rush. It contains almost nothing but meaningless talk about a rock that can save 'them or us', whoever they are. Near the end, it talks about a doppelganger and how that can break a curse. I regard the writing as foolishness, despite the lifelong warning I've had about witchery, moving onto the next item.  
_

_It was a wooden box with beautiful brass hinges, an elegant design carved into the front of it. Inside was a piece of nature even more shocking in its beauty; an oval stone that shone clearly, varnished to perfection. There also was a note inside, drawn out in lengthy handwriting. 'Shall any being, not of darkness, find this stone, thy should dare not keep it. For it is a stone of poison, and one of a dark history, that any being of the darkness would kill for.'_

_My insides quivered, knowing the 'beings of darkness' that the note talks of. Mama used to tell stories of them in the night, spooking me enough to run to Father, begging him to watch over me and not let the demons inside our home. Quickly, I dropped the stone back into the box, just like it was as fiery and hot as the pits of hell._

_ In a way, it was, for if it had anything to do with the monsters that I have been warned of, then it would be close enough in comparison. _

_Taking a shaky breath, I put the box aside with trembling fingers, still wanting to see more of what was in the cubbyhole, even if it meant reading about demons. There were two things left inside the little hole; a pouch full of pointy sticks and a leather bound journal. Even knowing that I was intruding Klaus's privacy, I continued to pull out the pouch as goosebumps rose all over my arms._

_There was no surprise to it; it simply was a pouch filled with tiny wooden stakes. There was no note, no inscription in the wood. I set it on the ground, lifting the last item out of the hole. The journal was of large standards and all of its pages were filled with the sharp black writing that I know as Klaus's. All of a sudden, it was harder to swallow as the guilt crept up on me, making me hesitate at opening the journal. My hesitation was short-lived, though, because I did open the journal, and with much curiosity first entry I saw were the words on the third page, bold and clearly displayed.  
_

_Fall 1028- a treachery to our lives?  
_

_A terrible rumor was spread; I had heard it from thy dear friend Samuel as I had entered the village. The moon-creatures are growing much in_

_strength and many in numbers. I fret for our kind, for it can only mean one thing that I have heard. It has been preformed. It must have been, _

_am I not correct? For if not... how is it possible for them to increase in number so quickly? No, it must be false, this event the town folk talk of. _

_But what if it is not? I must prepare immediately but what must I do? How will thy find information on this probably untrue event? However, if it_

_ is true and there is a stone that holds the secrets, where shall I find it? How shall I reach it? How will I undo the curse that binds so many beings of  
_

_ darkness it if I do not even know the curse? How will thy find all the objects needed to undo, or destroy, the curse? How far away will this journey_

_lead thee? So many questions and nearly no answers... puzzlement is on rare occasions of thy age and status. Officially, this shall be hidden in a  
_

_special place, for out of sight is out of mind. For however long the incident, thee will remember this no matter the troubles, and when the time is  
_

_right, thy shall tell of the curse, the stone that binds it, and all that is true. For now though, _

_Farewell. _

_Overwhelming shock and fear forced me to clamp my hand over my mouth, to keep from crying out. Tears welled up in my eyes as I connected the simple events together. __Although the meaning of it all and the general idea is hazy in my mind, I can put together a fairly good guess what all these objects hint at. __If only my theory were not true..._

_Instinct forced me to put the items back, erasing all evidence possible so that it was like I hadn't been there at all. I took extra care to line all the objects up perfectly inside the little cubbyhole, so that not one dust mite was misplaced. I took one last look around the room to make sure all had an undisturbed look to it. With a final, deep breath I strode out of the room, promising myself that I would never again look in the hiding spot, no matter how grave the situation. _

_That promise did not last long at all._

I snap out of the memory, my mind slowly coming back into reality. Keeping my eyes on Trevor, I quickly take stock of my surroundings and internally debate on whether or not to tell what I've found since that day. Finally, friendship overrules my mistrust, and so I open my mouth to speak right at the same time Trevor does.

"Katerina, would you kindly accompany me on a ride with the horses?"

"Why I would love to. Thank you, Trevor," I say, my fingers nervously fraying the hem of my dress impatiently as I wait for him to get the bridles on the horses.

We climb upon the horses, leading them onto the dirt roads, away from the house as I gather my courage for the last time, thinking of how to tell Trevor.

The clickity-clack of the horses' hooves on the rocks below keep rhythm to the loud drumming of my heartbeat.

"Have there been any more deaths in town, Trevor?" I ask, trying to create conversation, also hinting at my theory at the same time.

"Why, no, did you expect there to have been?"

"No, not exactly. I just..." My words trail off as I try to piece together my suspicions and accusations in a kind way.

"Katerina, can you not trust me enough to confide in me?" Trevor asks, looking at me sideways with large, knowing eyes. I bite my lip, suddenly facing a two-way road in my mind, and the biggest problem is that I do not know which path to take.

That is the big question in my mind, also. It is one of the many questions that keeps spinning in continuous loops through my mind. Can I trust Trevor? Can I tell him the most puzzling and coincidental things that I have found out since arriving here? The largest question of all, though; could I ever possibly tell Trevor that I think that he, Elijah and Klaus are beings of darkness and that I have proof to back it up?


	4. You Want The Truth?

_**England****, spring of 1492- CONTINUED**_

**Part I**

I jump off the horse and run off of the road for a distance before Trevor can speak. Suddenly I stop in the middle of the field, and plop down on the cushy grass, letting Trevor tie up the horses and then parade over to me.

"Katerina. You know, do you not? Why have you not fled? Do not look away from me, Katerina. I know of your shy look. I know of your mendacious look. I know what each and every expression on your face can mean. You can not deceive me, Katerina, and think that I am fooled. For if that is the case, than you are the wrong one, the fooled one. Katerina, tell me what you know, or your life is at stake."

My lips curve upward in a mocking smile. Pleasant pain spreads throughout my body as I clutch my sides, laughing manically.

Trevor stares at me with those wide, shocked eyes of his, probably thinking that I have lost all of my sanity. Soon enough, I wind down, as I am nearly out of breath from laughing so hard. I jump up and pace in front of Trevor for a minute before sitting back down.

"Trevor, do you have a secret?" I ask, dodging his immediate question.

"Why, do you?" Trevor responds quickly, warily.

A small smile creeps up onto my face, "As a matter of fact, I do. Now that I've answered your question, would you please answer mine?"

"Why does it matter so much, Katerina?"

I frown, annoyed that Trevor keeps dodging my questions even though I am doing exactly the same thing to him. I look up into his face, begging him to drop the subject.

I know what he sees; a bronze-skinned beauty with curly brown hair, large blue eyes and a "sweet" soul that he believes he loves. It was what all the boys back home saw. 'Such a sweet young lady', they would say. The sad thing was that despite all of this being true, not one of the could recite more about me than Trevor, even though they knew me for much longer than Trevor has. I suppose in a way, many would consider it a good thing, since Trevor is a handsome young man. But I do not consider it good; in fact, I consider it terrible since my suspicions may be true, and so I will have to just tell him them sooner.

I bite my lip, so hard that I draw blood, and look away, contemplating how to come right out with it since I do not want to lie to this honest Trevor.

"There was that day with the hole in the wooden floor," my stomach has bats flying around in it as I begin, "but it was just the beginning. I began to find many more odd things around the house, all connecting to either the entries that I had read in the journal, or somethings else. I kept going back there when I knew Klaus was out, since I couldn't bear the thought of him finding me pawing through his private possessions.

"About... maybe a couple months after I had found the alcove in the floor, I was passing the study when I had heard Elijah and Klaus talking. 'Listen, Elijah,' Klaus had said, 'I do not want the girl finding out about any of this, do you understand? This is a serious matter, for all of us. This ritual cannot be a failure, for there may never be another chance as good as this one'. I might have gasped or something because Klaus paused for a moment, just like he had heard me. When he resumed, he had said, ' Enough talk of this. Now why don't you run along now and find the stable boy? The horses have been needing a grooming._'_

"That was about it that month, until I found a piece of paper wedged between two bricks behind the wood pile, nearly impossible for anyone but someone getting wood to find. It had come with the wood as I had pulled the log out, if I remember correctly, and it had said '_12 more Midnights, B of D, Woods, Ritual.'"_

A shiver runs down my back as I remember the curly, lengthy handwriting that the note was drawn out in. I glance at Trevor and see that he watches me carefully, speculating my every move, saying nothing.

"And then... never mind." I stutter as my feeble mind transports me back to that clear memory of that appalling day.

_I sat in my bedchamber as I looked out into the brown grassy yard. Klaus had gone out for supplies from town, or so he claimed, and so 'twas only I and the servants. Elijah had not stayed with us for quite a while, since he currently visited family. _

_With every soul gone from these grounds and the land stretching out before my hungry eyes, I took the liberty of advancing down to the expansive meadow from my empty bedchamber and strolling around, collecting my thoughts of what home meant to me now.  
_

_The slim threads of grass waved in the slight gust of wind and the bees hummed softly and rhythmically, lulling me nearly to sleep. As I had adventurously and oh-so conveniently left my shoes and stockings in the mansion, the soft brown soil pleasantly squished between my toes. _

_The air hummed with the tension of an oncoming storm and the animals prepared daintily; squirrels and rabbits, deer and chipmunks, all raced about the shining field in anticipation of an oncoming storm that was likely days away. I noted how lively and upbeat the animals were whenever Klaus, Elijah and Trevor were out; the little creatures were so much more confident in their small actions. _

_As the trees swayed to the feel of the light air current, I had lain back on the rocky soil, not caring if my silk dress got dirty- I could always go straight to the maids; they wouldn't question it. The sun beat down upon my pale face as I listened to the chirping of the crickets and the thrum of the Hummingbird's wings._

_I couldn't get the incident of the... niche in the floor, out of my mind. It plagued me day and night as I wondered exactly how I can into play in all of this. It couldn't be coincidence that Klaus took me in without question and taught me everything he knew without pay. There were no kind men in the world, I had learned. Or were there?_

_It could not be fate that led me to that hiding place for all of those documents, those secrets... Only for my mind._

_A thin wail pierced through my deep, delving thoughts, penetrating my concentration. I automatically twitched in response to the seemingly animal shriek. It was high and shrill in tone and it chilled me nearly to the core. Shivers of despair ran up and down my arms and I intertwined them in front of my chest as I naturally did when I became spooked. _

_Curiosity finally overruled my good judgment, and so I made my way over to the eastern edge of the woods surrounding the sunlit field, all the while waiting for a catastrophe to happen. What, I did not know. But I did know this: every instinct in my body - every atom, every cell, in my body - warned me to stay away from the constant yowling. _

_It wasn't as if I hadn't heard the noise before; I had. I realized why it was quite so familiar: It wasn't an animal screaming. It was a human. Or rather, not one, but many. This time though, it seemed more urgent, more intense. My legs moved stiffly as I made my way to the brick building from where I had located the noise. _

_Klaus never used the structure, and forbid any of us to. He claimed it was unfit for life, that it was dirty beyond help._

_My fingers scraped along the rough brick wall as I walked next to it with my fingers drifting along the side of it. The shrieks grew in number and tone and soon I had no choice but to cover my sensitive ears. The tragic moans and unbearable cries weakened my concentration for finding out what is in there. _

_I scooted along the outer edge of the old, crumbling building. My heart raced and my palms were sweaty despite the cool breeze. My tangled hair caught on twigs from the bushes surrounding the structure and I quietly yanked free, gasping with each hair lost. But somehow I knew that losing hair was the least of my problems. _

_My mind reeled with expectations of what I would find, with the horrific possibilities of the tortures that one could endure and that would make someone wail like that, all piercing and outright. _

_The door was in sight as I painstakingly stepped the last few feet to the doorway. I glanced back at the main house, hoping so hard that none of the servants would see me snooping and come to investigate. Chest tight with fear and hope, the door creaked open as I pressed my fingers to it. _

_"Hello?" I whispered into the darkness. _

_Hurt human groans and frightened screeches responded. As soon as my meek eyes adjusted to the weak lighting, my breath was stole away at the cataclysmic_ _ image of what stood right in front of me. I was a frozen statue as I saw the forlorn and calamitous state that people I knew, my own neighbors, were in. _

_What was happening?  
_

I blinked my eyes to rid of the growing tears. How come this incident even came into my mind? It would have been terrible had I spilled this dark secret to Trevor. No, although I had told him all of the others, this one was mine to keep. Adjusting my eyes in the blinding light of the sun, I look to Trevor and decide to speak some of the truth._  
_

"I have my suspicions, Trevor. I may look... not smart, but I most certainly am."

"Katerina, I know what this may seem like, but-"

"-do you? Do you know what it seems like to me, Trevor? I do not think you do," I say, all my old, pushed-down anger rising up, "No, you walk around all day, pretending to blend in. You think people do not notice it, as you think you charm them. Let me tell you, you have no clue what it looks like to me or to any other person, you creature from hell." My eyes open wide, while my jaw drops as I process what I had just said to him. He is my friend. Well, he was my friend. I would not blame him if he sucked my veins dry right now. I am a terrible person, saying that to Trevor. Why is it not possible for me to behave more lady-like?

He swallows, looking closely at the dirt, picking out each and every speck from the one beside it, "Katerina. D-do you mean... do you mean that? Is that really what you think I am?" Trevor asks, meeting my eyes.

I can do nothing but nod, as I am shocked beyond being able to comprehend my own words after what I had just said to him. My heart begins to wildly beat in my chest as I hold my breath, seeing that my life is nearly over as I stand there in the field, with Trevor taking slow, predatory steps toward me. My hands feel clammy, and my legs are shaking quite badly.

Five more steps unitl he reaches me...

_Please, Trevor, can you not let me live? This knowledge does you no harm if I tell no one. _

Four...

_Of course not. You are a predator. Why would you let your prey live?_

Three...

_I should have at least been able to say goodbye to Mama and Father, if I am sentenced to death, right?_

Death in two more steps...

_I shall take this with dignity if this shall be my fate. _

I raise my chin and straighten my shoulders as he takes one more step...

He leans in toward me as I close my eyes, prepared to die...

_Goodbye, world._

**Part II**_  
_

My eyes fly open in pleasant surprise as his lips meet mine in a passionate, sweet kiss. As soon as I see of his probable motives to make me die a long, painful death, I gladly embrace it, pretending that I kiss Finn instead of Trevor, the only man I have ever loved, and Finn also is the Father of my poor, lonely child, though I would never tell my family that. I grow confused as he slowly and carefully backs away, Trevor's face showing nothing but joy.

Suddenly, his head snaps upward toward the house, and his face becomes a mask of sheer anger, his perfectly formed features twisting into another person altogether.

His hand grips my arm in a hard embrace as he tugs me along behind him, _'what is happening?_' I wonder. My skin turns red from the pressure of his fingers as he clutches my arm tightly, weaving me in and out of the trees. Dirt spews as I struggle to escape the growing hurt of his grip. The field of flowers surrounded by trees suddenly looks like a beautiful but terrible place to die, and suddenly I am scared not only for my life, but also for Trevor, despite his... conditions. His actions are beginning to start to scare me, for he has never acted this way before. _'Is it his reaction to what I had just told him?'_ I wonder, knowing that it is quite probable. Subconsciously, I hear a whisper of a thought, saying, '_Danger, danger, danger..._'

"Trevor? Stop this nonsense right now! It is ridiculous! Why do you act this way? We were enjoying a peaceful day and you suddenly grab me and yank me to my feet? It is not a gentlemanly thing to do, you know!" I scold him as my feet stumble for footing on the slippery grass.

When he looks at me, the Trevor I knew is no longer reflected in his eyes. Instead there is a wild beast who has urgent instincts that are being taken out upon me.


	5. What Is To Come?

**Hello! LISTEN- I urge you to read the last chapter again because if you read this chapter before April 17, 2011, than the chapter had been a bit different. I added another flashback to it that is important in the rest of the story, so if you wouldn't mind reading to remember, that'd be great! Also, it may help you with the situation in this chapter.  
**

**Now if you just reread the last chapter like I so kindly asked you to, I really hope you enjoy this chapter! Entertain yourself, now! R&R please!  
**

* * *

**_England, spring of 14__92__- CONTINUED_**

"Now? But... But, Sir, we are not ready!" Trevor screeches in alarmed surprise.

I am hidden deep in the woods, but from my hiding place I can see Trevor and the man with him out in the open field nearly perfectly.

After telling Trevor my suspicions, he had dragged me this far into the woods and had urgently told me to stay put. My legs are now cramped from being in the fetal position so long, but I do not want to take the daring chance of moving, which would alarm the blond, infuriated man beside Trevor that I am here.

Klaus. Klaus is the man beside Trevor. At this moment, he is yelling wildly at Trevor about things that I never had wanted to hear. I had thought he was a good man until a few months ago. But even then, I had not know how malicious Klaus really was. Nor could I have possibly guessed.

But Klaus, however rudely he was talking to Trevor at that moment, was not the biggest of the problems in that open field. No, there was something _way_ worse out there. If my suspicions prove correct, Klaus is the cause of it.

Blood. Pain. Shock. Human beings.

Too much blood. Dried blood. Sticky, wet blood. Both. Blood has always made me worse than queasy.

The red, velvet looking blood swirls over the green leafy grass, their colors contradictory.

Unconscious bodies are draped over a carriage, bumping along over the uneven meadow, like they are rag dolls and nothing more.

Blood oozes from all, except for one, of their skins, clotting loosely against their weak bodies.

I have seen an unsightly image replicating this before: I had been alone at this house, this site of death. Ever since then, I've had to lie for my own life, now that I knew some of the possibilities of what is in my future and what is to come.

"Tonight!" Klaus's booming voice draws my eyes away from the scene of terror and I focus on the men who took me in without question and treated me uniquely, like an equal. Supposed friends. One roommate and one neighbor.

My heart picks up speed, beating erratically, as I strain my ears to listen in to their fairly loud conversation over the cries and wails of all those on the opposite side of the meadow.

Fear causes my delicate fingers to shake uncontrollably. The quivering slowly spreads across my whole body as I listen more closely to what the two have to say. It runs down my spine, giving me chills, and throughout my legs, which were already shaky.

Trevor meekly follows a noble and confident Klaus as he crosses the field.

"Trevor, I am done listening to your nonsense," Klaus's eyes are cold and glistening with anger as he talks. "Prepare the site of the ritual- now! I will not wait any longer. I have waited hundreds of years for this day, since Charlotte had first been sacrificed, thus securing the sacred curse. I need not wait any longer. The day has come to sacrifice the rare doppelganger and if you want to live, I suggest thee do as I say!"

Charlotte... Where had I heard that name before? All of a sudden, I remembered it rolling off of Elijah's tongue the moment we had met when he asked if I was a Charlotte. But... what does a curse have to do with Charlotte? Is she dead, had she died to secure a sacred binding, like Klaus claimed? And a doppelganger? Had I any clue what that word meant, I could have been more sure about my suspicions. But currently only one idea was running through my mind: that I was a twin in appearance of this dead Charlotte woman, and that since, from what little information I have gathered, Charlotte died in a sacrifice my life, too, was on the slim thread, making it's way to an inevitable death.

The force and meaning of his confusing words finally and fully register in my mind, and I blindly cry out in fear of my immediate future.

Nails grip and dig into my forearm hard in an instant.

Klaus's eyes were at their coldest as I looked up with pure hatred and irrational, at this moment, judgment. The predatory look in his eyes assured me that I was not slipping around this incident. Although I had no clue what it could possibly be, I knew that I was in deep calamity.

The emerald leaves flutter in the innocence of the cool breeze around me as I kneel there, petrified beyond words. It seems somewhat harsh of nature and the world: it is one of those rare sunny spring days where all I want to do is enjoy the scenery, but here I am, caught in a life-threatening situation where I have no clue, well, maybe a tiny clue, of what the outcomes could possibly end up like.

I glare up at Klaus with a mien somewhat made up of revulsion, but mostly irateness, due to two dire happenings.

"Katerina..." Klaus breathes, his sharp eyes catching mine as his stare seemed to scrutinize me. "I had not wanted it to happen this way, but I am left no choice."

He turns to Trevor with an expression of trust and barbarous victory glinting in his eyes. Skin cold as ice, I dare not move although my mind and body scream to run.

Trevor immediately reaches out and steps in front of Klaus, who in turn steps back, rubbing his palms together in excitement and eagerness.

"I'm sorry, Katerina." Trevor whispers nearly inaudibly to me, his voice cracking with the pain of hurting me as he yanks on my arms, securing them tightly to my back. The rope he then ties on tightly burns and cuts into my fragile skin as I bite my lip hard enough to draw blood, trying not to cry out and let them catch on that I'm hurting so very much.

I am sure that my expression is pained and that they can see my guts twisting inside of me in anticipation of the horrific afflictions I expect them to impart on me.

My eyes wander helplessly back to the bodies that other people - or.. beings of darkness? - in dark capes are moving around. My confusion grows as I see that they are not putting the near-corpses back into the shed I had found so long ago. No, they were moving them into the woods.

Thoughts swirl forcefully and teasingly in my mind and I then remember what I had heard come out of Klaus's lips when I had been still with fear._ Prepare the site of the ritual- now! I will not wait any longer. I have waited hundreds of years for this day, since Charlotte had first been sacrificed, thus securing the sacred curse. I need not wait any longer. The day has come to sacrifice the rare doppelganger and if you want to live, I suggest thee do as I say! _Klaus had said.

Obviously, I was some sort of sacrifice. A sacrifice that was for Beings of Darkness so that they could . I had gathered that dreadful much. But the pain of Klaus, Elijah and Trevor betraying our friendships for some sickly sacrifice of me hurt me more than the thought of my death did, if it was even possible.

A lump caught in my throat as I felt the tears trying to stream out of my eyes as I fought to hold them in. My throat was dry and it felt as though my chest were hollow.

The pain created the likely illusion that my heart had collapsed in on me. It was not a far off theory; I had no one in this world left. Mother and Father disowned me, taking away my lovely daughter in the process. They had no idea of where I was right now. They had no idea that I was an offering from demons for only the Lord knew what. I had no one. Elijah and Klaus had turned out to be worse than the usual traitor that we in Bulgaria rarely heard of. These men here were truly evil; they captured innocent people, seven to be exact, and put all of their lives on the line so that... what? Why did they do that?

The amount of defeating questions swarmed in my brain as I let all hope go. I was getting no answers. I only had more unanswered questions piling up.

I glared at Klaus with accusing eyes as he causally picked up a trembling me like he did it all the time. Trevor stood off to the side, his fine features twisted into an expression of silent and unspoken outrage.

"Tonight, Trevor. Go now." Klaus's voice was crisp with tolerance as he sharply ordered an unwilling Trevor to use. "Prepare for deaths. The time has come for us to be free and the Moon-Wolves to be damned to eternal misery!"

Klaus twisted my arm tighter and laughed in pleasure, making me cry out in anguish and disdain as I lay there trembling in metal and rope binds, vulnerable for any creature of this world. This minor torment was unbearable as I quickly learned that there were no escape routes. Klaus and Trevor, two sinister, malignant spirited beings, had captured me for my blood so that I would serve the purpose of being their offering in a malevolent, inhumane ritual. How could anyone wrap their mind around that disturbing and gruesome truth?

It made sense that my mind was blank with the expectation of my death; I had nothing to live for anymore. Never again would I have wonderful children, or a spouse for that matter. Never again would a see the beauty in a perfectly sunny day where the wind blows soothingly through the still trees and lifts my spirits high.

No.

I. Was. Dead. To. The. World.

Already, I had been dead to the world the moment that my loving parents had disowned me. The moment I had escaped from the lovely place I had called home all my life.

A single wet trickle of mourning ran silently down the left side of my face as I began to soundlessly chant prayers to all my loved ones as I clutched the wooden cross, filled with Vervain and that always hung around my neck, tightly, knowing that I had no hope in all of this.

My lips moved quickly and steadily for a standstill moment of bliss before I went limp and unconscious, with the exertion of the knowledge that I knew, in their strong arms. Impending darkness overwhelmed me and I soon gave in, closing my eyes for a while, escaping the cruel outside world for one with no senses.


	6. Twisted Situations

**Hello again to all of you readers!  
**

**Enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

**_England, spring of 14__92__- CONTINUED_**

Dare I open my tired eyes, I may have seen the last pitch blackness of the night swallowing up all of the hidden foliage through the glass window. The only light in the room is from the setting moon, which is slowly moving across the night sky in a decreasing arc, an eerie glow in the gray velvet mass. Though my eyes are shut tightly, my ears work better than ever and I can meld the image in my mind as I hear the different sounds and voices of each of the creatures in the mansion's room.

My observations lead me to conclude that it must be near or a few hours away from dawn, for the hints of rays of light that burst through the sky look suspiciously like a waking sun.

"Quickly now. He should be here any second. Do you suspect Katerina is awake now?" Elijah's high and mighty voice is wobbly and uncertain as he speaks quietly to someone near him. If I knew no better, I would have thought that he cared for my sake, but his proven part in betraying me quickly banishes that thought to the very back of my slow-working mind.

My heart nearly stops in fright as he talks and the sound of shuffling of feet is close to my aching head that rests on a kind and oddly soft surface. In fact, my entire body is moaning in protest, my limbs creaking in my ears from trying to keep still.

Curiosity overcomes me and I squeeze my eyes open into slits as to make it less obvious of my awakening.

Two men sit rather nobly on velvet couches that are positioned around a fire, away from a mahogany wooden desk that I know so well. I recognize it to be Klaus's office and seeing the books and papers quite awry leaves me with a feeling of dread, for Klaus has taught my that he never leaves a room without quickly straightening it up. I suspect that it is a long habit that he has had over his many years.

"That is not of matter right now, Elijah." A voice dismisses Elijah's momentary thought, the tone of the voice crosses my simple mind as the lovely Trevor's. "The more pressing matter is this: to what extent of the truth do you intend on telling your brother Klaus?"

The words have no immediate affect on my mind, but I have a sense that something is not quite right. Something is different, something of a truth told in that sentence where as I had been fed a stream of lies before. Something of importance... I have no time to ponder it before Elijah answers.

_"'_Tis none of your business, Trevor. Thank you for your help and you may go now."

"But Elijah! Be careful with Katerina; she is obviously slier than you suspect. And I wouldn't tell-"

"I said go! He will be here within the next few minutes- he is just tending to the... ingredients." Elijah mentions mysteriously in an outraged tone. Soon enough, the glass doors to the old room slam shut behind someone; I assume it to be Trevor since no arguing happens for a few moments.

Papers shuffle for a while, probably for the purpose of making the room look neater, and then a glass clinks across the room and I can just imagine Elijah filling it with some rare pricey drink in preparation for a nice little chat with Klaus as he surveys my still body with satisfaction, oblivious to my conscious state.

Taking slow controlled breaths is tiresome, I realize, after just a few minutes of lying there so indifferently. But I have to keep up the charade for another hour at least, so that I can successfully learn all I need to know. And in order to do that, I need to appear to be unconscious and inattentive throughout my friends' talk, if I can still call them friends at all.

"Klaus!" Elijah's voice is full of warm enthusiasm as he gets down to business. "So glad you could make it."

"I wouldn't miss it for the moon. Though that may cause a bit of a damper on my ability to meet." Klaus laughs darkly and I sense an inside joke between his humble words. Elijah chuckles along politely.

"Than you must realize my cause for this private consultation."

"Of course, brother. The cause is of the doppelganger, I presume? And the fake curse as well as the real one?"

I grow more confused each second as Klaus brings in many new variables to my simple mind, making me consider that the world is beyond my comprehension and that the complicated matters are even more elaborate than I had originally suspected.

Klaus's reference to Elijah as a brother slowly trickles into my mind and forms as a majorly questionable conflict. Hadn't Elijah told me that he and Klaus were cousins? And did Klaus not confirm that when I met him? But he had hesitated at calling Elijah a brother...

But, on the other hand, Elijah had been off visiting family at one point, or so he claimed. Had he really been off rounding up those poor souls that they have tortured for inquiring reasons instead of enjoying a peaceful evening with a sister or father?

And what about it? What is it to me to question their heritage? They must have had their reasons for lying and saying that they were cousins.

No, now that I've heard them say otherwise, I do not believe for a moment that they are just cousins. They are too close in age, their faces are so similar with their edgy looks and the noticeable way that their eyes and noses are shaped as well as their perfectly sculpted lips. Although their eyes and hair colors are different, I am sure about one thing: they must be brothers.

And what fake curse? What real curse? These questions plague me with how little I know about each, how little I know in general.

Controlling my breathing is becoming more difficult as I listen to the rest of their puzzling conversation.

"You know that I would not dare to face you without it." I'm sure that Elijah motions toward me because I can hear footsteps advancing in on me.

"Good and unconscious. Well done, brother." Klaus chuckles. I slowly take another deep breath in happiness of their foolishness. "We now need to focus."

The footsteps recede and I dare to breathe a little faster, so that my lungs are filled as much as they should be. It is difficult for me to gauge how deep and when I should take the breaths, for it isn't like I listen to my own breathing while sleeping, now is it?

"Katerina is of little use, brother. She need not die! Your curse is able to be broken without this lowly soul! Please, Klaus, reconsider your-"

"No! The rest must be convinced that the Sun And The Moon Curse exists! They must believe that I do this in the name of all vampires! But, ha, when I'm the all-powerful, I'll be able to do so much! There will be not only three supernatural races in existence- vampires, werewolves and _witches_- but four!"

My skin is crawling as Klaus rambles on about victory over lives and how great it will be for the brothers. While he does this, I cannot help but puzzle over one thing: the Sun And The Moon Curse does not exist? Since when? I had seen it for myself that day in the study- I saw the meager amount of scrolls and parchments where the Aztecs had written all those rules and documentaries!

No, Klaus must be lying or talking in a well-hidden code. He could not know that I would paw through his private treasures, or even know that I am currently awake.

"Klaus, I beg you to reconsider." Elijah's serious tone obviously stops Klaus from interrupting, "If we hold this Ball for the town as you've planned, the curious folks may go sticking their noses in places where they do not belong, such as the shed where Dorthea, Marlow and the rest are. Anny, too. My dear brother, how do you suppose the towns people will act in response to see the missing youngster tied up and bleeding to death? Think about it. If we go through with this plan, it may lead to some serious trading trouble in the village."

Elijah continues after a meaningful pause, "And as far as we know, Katerina has no knowledge of what is going on at all, even though you just practically exposed my side of you, and now you want to give her more clue to the depth of this secret? I am thoroughly disgusted with you, brother, if you think that killing Katerina for some made-up curse will be efficient in warding the other demons off our trail."

A sigh, "Brother. Elijah. Do you remember how long we've lived? Do you remember the soul purpose we created the complicated foolery for in the first place? Do you not remember the long lengths that we went through to make it believable?"

"Yes, Klaus, I do. But it matters not, anymore." Elijah continues as though he has not heard Klaus's low, menacing growl, "The shifts for you have stopped come the full moon, the only part left is the blood cravings. You know that. Can we not give up this chaotic hunt? The cause is destroyed! Let the Vampires believe what they prefer. Let the Mongrels do the same. Come the day for them to kill the girl, or another doppelganger, so be it. But, Klaus, we cannot have anymore deaths on our-"

"Enough! This has been our goal for so long, no? And you deem to give it up for nothing all of a sudden? No, this preposterous idea of yours will not be followed through with. We need to keep control of the worlds, let them fear us. Guide them to keep believing that there is a way out. But when we break the curse, and we will, brother, it will do better than free these no-good creatures; it will let us have control of them."

By now, I am fully positive that Klaus is crazy as they come. Elijah has wonderful points, however. Letting me die for the sake of practically nothing is cruel. And what is Klaus besides Vampire? It does not make as much sense as I had speculated it would...

"What is the plan, then? No Ball? Yes to a Ball? When and how shall we announce to the Vampires and Wolves that we have every _necessity_?"

"Yes to the Ball. It shall be a grand night of pretending to be something we are not." Klaus chuckles. "Call up the stable boy. He can ride around on his horse and take a sail through the countries and waters, all they way to Italy, announcing that _Bound to the Moon no longer, Tied to the Sun no longer are thy Enemies; One shall bask in Glory. _Word shall spread quickly enough, do you not agree? Excellent plan, no?"

My breath catches in my throat, making me gasp slightly, my deeply patterned breathing out of whack.

"Ah, yes..." Elijah's voice is tiresome and cautious as he says, "I do believe we have company. Someone must have woken up."

Startled by the notice they have suddenly given me, my fawn-like eyes fly open and I shoot backward, curling into a ball and staring as they approach yet again.

"Why yes, apparently we do." Klaus's demanding and piercing face peers down into my timid one. His eyes are full of intense concentration and they are sparkling blue, the pupils growing and shrinking in a mesmerizing way. "Katerina, go. You heard nothing. You can repeat nothing. You do not remember one event of the past two days. Your mind is blank, all memory erased. Go to sleep."

Something switches into a sort of blank mode in my mind and I absentmindedly close my eyes in my suddenly drowsy state.

Too tired to fight, I let the darkness take over me again, although I am uneasy...

~xXx~

Sunlight streams through the cracks of the beautiful stained-glass windows in my bedchamber. Nagging at the back of my mind is something that I realize to be urgent, although I cannot place it.

No matter. Today is the day I have to tell Trevor about my knowing that he is a Vampire.

I stretch and roll over in the fluffy feathers that are woven into the mattress. When I had first seen this bed in the chamber, it was too good to be true; real goose feathers for a mattress versus the tightly packed and poking hay we had at home! So luxurious.

Rubbing the sleep out of my now-alert eyes, I pad across the strip of cold marble floor and onto the plush red carpet on the other side of the room where my wardrobe is. Klaus and Elijah have told me time and time again that I could call to have a lowly servant help me change, but although I had that option at home in Bulgaria also, I've never been fully fond of having someone else with me in the very early morning.

Picking out a green velvet dress amongst all the other well-fitting dresses, changing into it and putting my long locks of brunette hair up in a proper do takes time and the sun is high in the sky before I am decent enough to appear before the men.

Before immediately heading down to the Grand Hall like a proper lady would have done - though I am no proper lady- , I stick my head out one of the six tall windows, that curve around to make a bright naturally lighted wall in the boudoir, checking what the sundial appears to look like. Good. Mid-morning has not yet passed.

This bedchamber was an ideal one; from every window in it, I can see the main gardens where the sundial is located, a stretch of field and beyond that, woods, and even the cobblestone path that the travelers use!

Shutting the big oak door behind me, I rush down the long winding staircase and into the Grand Hall. As it is every morning, the smell of crisply cooked bacon, eggs and biscuits waft into my nose, making my mouth water.

"Good morning, my Lords." I greet Klaus and Elijah kindly, curtsying.

They are dressed in their every-day work clothes; Elijah in his riding gear and Klaus ready to pick up more work to keep him busy in his study, leaning over those musty books. I see not how he stands the captive feeling that I get when in there.

The ceilings of the Grand Hall are even more splendid than the rest of the Hall itself. A mixed pattern of battling men and animals flow freely across the high canvas as though they watch over all below. The detail is as accurate as it is small, each face holding just the right amount of anger, happiness or blandness that it needs.

The mural used to confuse me, but that was before I learned of the secret that I believe Trevor, and possibly Klaus and Elijah, hold. Now the sight is transformed and I see the men as I believe that they are meant to secretly be seen as: Vampires and Werewolves battling to the death. It can be a deceiving mural, it can be interpreted many different ways if you know not about the Night Creatures.

I slip into a tall chair next to Elijah and sweetly place my hands on my lap as I observe the tense mood in the room.

"As to you, Katerina." Klaus replies, his sharp blue eyes overseeing my outfit in one quick glance. His penetrating gaze then rests on a maid behind me, "Be so kind as to get Katerina some food. Now, Katerina," He turns his attention back to me, "are you ready for the Ball in three nights?"

The Ball. I'd completely forgot and lost track of time! Months ago, Klaus and Elijah had begun preparation for this exquisite ball that they planned on hosting for the town folk, to get to know them better. It was so sweet, I'd thought,

Thinking on it, I grow excited, for there were never any blithe nights of fun to be had in Bulgaria. Face alight with enthusiasm, I nod vigorously while planning out what I shall wear. Of course it shall be of the finest material, as only the best is kept in Klaus's home, hopefully midnight blue or blood red.

Midnight. Blood. _Why do those words seem to jog a long lost memory?_ I wonder in confusion but quickly dismiss the thought as Elijah interrupts my rambling thoughts.

"Very good. How extraordinary it will be! Wonderful occasion, the full moon! Don't you agree, Klaus? Now eat up, child."

Elijah's tone sets me on edge and I automatically reach for my one special keepsake, my unique and precious necklace from Mama. It always comforts me for some odd reason. To be home in our cozy cottage with Mama and my family versus this mansion would be a blessing. But it is not possible.

The wood is rough in between my soft fingers, a natural and soothing pattern. Absentmindedly rubbing them across it, I think of the stories Mama used to tell me about the herb contained in this necklace and how good it smells.

The scent drifts up my nostrils almost lazily. My spoon is in my free hand as I dip it down into my oatmeal, preparing to take a bite.

Suddenly, I remember.

I remember the talk in the study, how Klaus compelled me- everything!

But I know to keep this dangerous knowledge a secret, and so my spoon continues to scoop up oatmeal in the one swift movement as though nothing changed, as though I am still fully compelled by Klaus.

In reality, everything has changed. The lifting of the compelling, probably caused by my necklace as Mama had told me so long ago, and the knowledge that is now my burden both sit heavily on my shoulders.

Looking back on it, I would be able to feel the change in my soul, but right now, I am oblivious as I make up my mind. From now on, I care not for others, but will only look out for myself.

I will always be looking out for myself.

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	7. Till Death Do Us Part

**Hello again to all you readers! **

**I am so sorry that it's been THREE MONTHS since I last updated! I totally lost track of time, but now that I finally remembered this story (haha... sorry :D), I'll try to update regularly, and since my summer is quite busy, it may be a week or so separating the updates. Anyways, since it's been so long, I included a "previously" so that you can get back on track and remember what you read last :) Thank you so much for those last few reviews and story alerts and I hope to see more this round! **

**Enjoy!**

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_**England, spring of 1492**_

_Previously: _

_What happened last chapter was that Katerina was knocked unconscious, and was laid in the Study, where Elijah was to talk to Klaus. They discussed the situation and murmured about a possible gathering, a ball at the least, so that the town would not grow suspicious of their home and ways. But Elijah was reluctant with the people hidden in the shed near the woods, deteriorating until needed for the Sacrifice. Also, they discussed the matter of the two different curses - fake and real - and how Klaus intends on being a Hybrid - part vampire and part werewolf - quite soon and how that is why they hold this ritual. After they realized that Katerina was conscious, they compelled her to forget all of the conversation that happened between the two and that she ever heard anything. But the compelling did not work that time for the next morning around breakfast time she remembered. She "remembers the talk in the study, how Klaus compelled her- everything!" and that is what happened. _

_**2 days later (than last chapter)...**_

"Truly, Trevor?" I whisper, excitement and relief flowing through my body like water through a stream, calming and reassuring my mind and soul.

I had just explained the conversation that I had overheard in the Study with Klaus and Elijah and how they had compelled me to forget, although it obviously did not work. Trevor took this with a guarded expression though I could tell that he thought this to be of serious matter. After I was done explaining, Trevor had promptly and so bluntly declared: "Escape. It's the only way."

Now this declaration was startling in the least, and the very thought made my heart quiver, made me nervous with the idea of leaving again, of not knowing where my next destination is. For two years, this had been my home, my sanctuary, the place that I always believe I'll have. Even when I found out about Trevor and them being Beings of Darkness I had not dismissed this place as my home: it had stayed my home despite the frightening truth of the people who live here. But now, thinking of moving on, thinking of leaving a place that I had thought to be permanent, all my thoughts, fears and observations of the last journey that had led me so far from home came rushing back to me, came in great bursts of terror and shock.

How could I possibly leave the one place that I can finally call the humbling name that means so much to me, how can I leave _home_?

"Truly. Now quickly, we need to hurry." His green eyes pierce into mine as we try to prepare for my immaculate escape that will be so difficult to execute but that we're beginning at dusk.

"But what about the others? What about little Anny, locked in the shed? Can we not save them also? Is it not possible? Please, Trevor."

"No time." He dismisses it casually, "And it may be tragic, it may sound awful, it may be a sin, but would you really put their lowly lives before your life? Katerina, you're an angel, a saint. You're a beautiful goddess. Your life if worth more than twenty of theirs put together. Katerina, if you're safe, really and truly safe, only then may I be able to turn a portion of my attention to those peasants, be able to help them to safety. For you are the main matter, the only one that my mind is wired to protect and to love." He pauses slightly in his talk, letting a small gasp escapes my lips and letting my thoughts run through my mind in one coherent stream:

The gasp that escaped my lips was formed because Trevor had professed his childish love for me yet again though not in so many words, for in my mind Trevor is only my close friend, in no way more than a pleasant face to cheer up my day. For him though it is obviously more- or he wants it to be. There is no reaction from me about my life being worth more than any of theirs- that insignificant speech went right through my mind- none of that had been absorbed; the fact that Trevor once again declared that he loves me is the only thing that seems to have sunk into the depths of my soul, chilling me to the bone.

"Katerina, that is the truth. I love you. I have been in love with you since the day we met. Of course many men have immaturely declared that they love you- you're gorgeous and your fighting spirit lets you fend for yourself as does your kind nature. But the difference between their and my professed love for you? It is that while they have only lived a minimum of thirteen years, I have lived nearly five of that. And in that time, there has never been a woman more cunning, more beautiful, more happy than you. And for that I love you."

By now my heart has almost exploded from emotions: without the happiness, the longing, the sadness and aching; minus the heartbreak and memories rising; short of the rising warm feeling that spreads through my body while at the same time a chilling and unnatural cold seeps into my bones, I would have simply been stunned. Instead, I am shocked with joy and regret that can never be explained.

Trevor stiffens suddenly, grabbing my wrist tightly, and though it leaves red marks, I don't complain. Instead, I lean into Trevor and looking into those honest blue eyes I quickly give him a goodbye peck on the cheek. His cheek is soft and warm, unlike how I thought it would be, and I wish that I could stay that way forever, sitting with him in this lovely meadow, watching sunrises every day...

But, alas, that is not possible. No, I have two evil vampires on my trail and if I do not make a run for it, they are sure to kill me over an altar. So I straighten up and lean back into my original stance, obviously disappointing Trevor. My cheeks blaze a deep red from embarrassment; ladies never throw themselves on men like that; they wait until the man makes the first move. To have done that could ruin anything; it'd be worse than being sacrificed on an altar.

I turn to Trevor, avoiding his eyes, and whisper, "When?"

"Any minute. Listen, Katerina. Look at me." He tilts my chin up softly, forcing me to look him in the eyes. They are clearly pained with the prospect of leaving me, of losing me. And in my heart, a little piece broke off for my best friend. Trevor has been so kind and caring since I came to England and for this I am very thankful - I wouldn't leave him of my free will, but right now it seems that I have none.

"Katerina, run straight through the woods and don't stop. Hide under the foliage if necessary. Do not hesitate to dirty your petticoats. Do you hear me?"

"Yes."

"After five minutes, Klaus is sure to notice your disappearance and send a group out to collect you -you're too precious for him to lose. I'll be sure to be in that group. I will direct them away from you. You head east, I'll head west with the group. Understand?"

"I believe so. When do the woods dissipate?"

"Not for kilometers. But, Katerina, trust me on this. Soon as the others are led away from you, I shall tell you the way. But should they catch you, I do not want my friend in trouble also. So it is better if the knowledge is kept from you. Goodbye Katerina. Remember to always look out for yourself."

I smile ruefully; I used that exact same expression the other day. But my smile dims as I grow worried. What if Klaus does catch me? My breath chokes me for a moment and tears fill my eyes as I talk to Trevor for what seems as though may be the last time.

His eyes are drawn quickly to something that I cannot make out with my eyesight and he gives me a light tap, telling me to go hide and then run when able to. I oblige and stumble off into the opposite direction of the mansion, heading deep into the trees.

His voice follows my shadowy figure: "Elijah, how does the..."

Waiting not to hear the response nor the rest of the question, I move quickly as I can while being silent as a mouse. I do not care that Trevor did not give the signal; the sooner I get away from that awful place, the better.

Tears blind me as I make my way through the forest. Tears for my past, tears for my present, and tears for my future stream down my fair face.

Twigs and leaves seldom crackle as I make my way deeper into the woods. Blind hearing, sight and touch, as well as smell, lead my through the golden light that breaks through the canopy of the trees. Heart racing wildly, I trample the rough gritty dirt and race between the thick billowing trees, making my way toward freedom and a life to live.

This last year has been too much for my feeble mind to even pretend to understand. First, I am thrown out of the only home I have ever truly known, then I find another, to discover that the men I thought that I knew are nothing like the image I had in my mind.

It is a circle; my life. It just repeats itself in different manners.

Fingers grazing the bark of trees as I fly through the forest, threads from my delicate skirts catching on small ground vegetation, I run for my life. That's what it is; a race against the unknown and invincible.

Heart fluttering with fright and legs shaking from the exertion of all the running, I pause, needing to breathe badly, my chest heaving from the short breaths. My eyebrows are knit together as I look around frantically for a hiding place.

_Crack_. Footsteps pound behind me, creeping closer with great speed.

Who can it be? Has Trevor not succeeded in holding them off? Are they after me already, or is it only a squirrel, coming out of hiding for the collection of food?

And then my worst suspicions are confirmed.

"-she?" Someone asks angrily, the voice traveling from far away. My eyes widen as I recognize the voice as one of Klaus's friends from town, and I duck with great cowardice as I press myself flatly against the forest floor, holding my breath in case the shallow sound gives me away.

"She's here." Another voice chimes in grimly.

Elijah speaks up, "Katerina!I know you're near. I can smell you. It's pointless to run; Klaus'll find you wherever you are." I can just imagine his eyes scouring the forest, picking out each footstep with careful precision as he decides which direction I'm headed.

The second I hear leaves crunching close to me, I know that I'm done for. This is it.

"This way. There's more blood over there." Relief and joy soar through my soul when I hear Trevor's faithful voice guiding the men away from me, protecting me, keeping me safe. I almost cry out in happiness, and I would have if it weren't for the life or death penalty that hangs over my head.

The wind whips quietly as they blur away, leaving Trevor and I alone for the moment. Shaking like a frightened deer, I push my sweaty hands upon the soft earth, lifting myself from its dirty ground. After hesitantly putting a hand to my dizzy head, it comes away with a red smear across it, and I look at it in awe and confusion.

When I feel that it is safe to move, silently as I can, I let go of the tree that I used for support and begin my long race again. But before I can get farther than one step, someone nearly scares my heart still as they appear in front of me, making my eyes widen and my lips automatically call out for help.

A hand clamps around my mouth before I can distinguish the face of the person. I am pushed back against the rough tree bark, which scratches through my layers of cloth that I wear, pushed back by a gentle but firm hand, not letting me escape.

I gulp with finality of the situation. This_ must_ be it. Death has come to sweep me away.

The human speaks, alerting me that it is not the deathly figure I had imagined it to be, but that it is Trevor, come to my rescue once again.

"Head east. I cannot lead them astray any longer." He says simply, looking over his shoulder constantly.

"I can't run anymore." I complain, heart fluttering with exertion as well as other things.

"Never mind. There's a cottage. You'll be safe there."

I nod confidently as well as knowingly. I trust Trevor; he trusts me. We make a fair team.

"Go now. Go!"

Once again I set off, my rickety legs leading my blindly through the woods as I push my curly, blood-soaked hair out of my eyes, frantically gripping trees when I need them so that I don't fall down. I cannot stop; my life depends on my speed, my swiftness.

_Safe. Cottage. Safe._

I keep repeating that little phrase in my mind for fuel, so that I do not give up.

After what seems like eternity, Trevor is true to his word, as there is a quaint wooden cottage appeared right in front of me, ivy growing right up its small sides, its door in the traditional fashion.

Running right up to it with the little energy I have left, I bang hard as I can, begging, "Help! Please, help me. Help me!"

A second later, it opens a few centimeters, making my heart rejoice with the prospect of help to freedom.

The face that appears startles me into taking a few steps backward, though I talk soon as I get over the shock of seeing an older woman at the door.

Gasping, I manage to say, "Please, help me."

She shakes her gray-haired head in denial, "I don't invite strangers into my home."

She begins to shut the door, but seeing this as my very last chance of escape - of survival - I thrust my hand into the opening, stopping the old woman and forcing her to listen to what I have to say.

"Trevor. He said that you'd help me." Hope flutters uselessly in my chest and it sinks the second I see that this woman has no clue who Trevor is... But the person standing behind her does.

"Damn him. Always making promises I don't want to keep." The new voice mutters, coming closer to the small opening.

The elderly woman who answered the door steps back a bit and pulls the door a tad wider, allowing the other woman to step into my view.

Looking at her, you cannot tell that she lives in deserted woods; she's lovely. Her brown hair neatly curled, cloth ironed to perfection, cheeks rosy and eyes bright with wary curiosity. No wonder Trevor is friends with this woman; she gives one a sense of honest boldness and strength.

Switching the picture around inside of my mind, I blush at how I must appear to this proper woman; I must look like a savage; clothes ripped, head bleeding down the side, chest heaving from heavy breathing, my hands shaking with panic. What a sight I must be.

After staring at me for a long moment, almost leading me to believe that I can find no help at this small abode, the woman speaks to the elder, "Let the girl in."

The elder woman opens the door wider and I rush past, beyond thankful for the aid. Faintly, I hear the younger woman tell the older one in a demanding tone, "Bring her water and something to eat."

Soon, I am seated on one of the few furniture pieces in the home, a fire already burning nicely in the small hearth next to me. The woman who faces me, the younger beauty, appears to be suspiciously like someone Trevor's told me about before. In fact, the description is so similar that I can't help but feel that I am correct.

"You must be Rose. Trevor said for me to show you this," I hold up the stone that used to be Klaus'; I took it from him before making my escape. The clear rock shines faintly in the dull light, "To prove I am who I say. That you would help me to freedom."

What comes out of Rose's mouth is not what I expected at all, "You stole this from Klaus?" She accuses me, her eyes hard, her voice impenetrable.

"It was to be part of the sacrifice ritual, so I grabbed it and made my escape." I answer simply.

My eyes follow her figure as she speaks, "People do not escape from Klaus. Everyone who tries ends up back in his grasp, and anyone who helps them dies!"

"I know the risk you bring on yourself by giving me aid-" I begin.

"I am risking nothing. At nightfall, I will bring you back to Klaus and beg him to show us both mercy!" Her voice rises in anger and she reaches for my arm roughly, violently pulling my unwilling self into the nearest room. My feet drag as I try to resist her shocking strength but make no progress, much to my frustration.

The door slams shut, denouncing my imprisonment there for the time being...

~xXx~

"It's nightfall. Time to go." Rose stalks into the room just as I throw my arms around my chest. She walks over to the bed and intends to drag me out when she pulls the sheets back, seeing it.

"When did this happen?" Her voice is sharp, as are her other senses.

"Mm, in the woods." I gasp, lying through the pain, "I tripped."

Rose's hands shuffle through the rest of the blankets and soon come across a dagger. But not just any dagger.

It's the one that I purposely tried to hide from her barely a second ago, the one that I stabbed my own stomach with in an attempt to die, to make this easier on everyone. And now it is in her posession.

"That's a lie. I would have smelled it!" She answers, pulling the dagger from the sheets into slightly better lighting, if not preferred.

The windowless, musty room does not help the situation any, so I decide to speak the truth. It is always better to speak the truth than lies, especially when there's even a glimmer of hope for doing so.

"I'd rather die than go back to Klaus," I say, tears brimming my eyes and emotions rushing back full-force. Begging, I say, "Please just let me die."

Her expression is hard and unreadable as she speaks, "If you die, than Trevor dies with you!"

Shocking me into a gasp, she bites down hard on her own wrist, making my stomach churn with disgust, and fast as lightening presses the bloody wrist up to my fragile lips, despite my protests.

Outcries cut off, there is nothing I can do to breathe with her red, dripping arm held against my mouth. My vision swims, warning me that I am surely going to pass out after a few more seconds. It is all I can do to just stand there and try not to swallow the rusty liquid, despite my instincts to breathe.

And then I'm let go of; she pulls away. The air rushes into my compressed lungs, filling them, sustaining them. I cannot get enough; I keep on gasping with shock and need, my mind racing with the recognition of what just happened.

Wiping the awful substance off my lips and chin, I glare at her with hatred and distrust.

Suddenly, the door to the room bursts open as I anxiously touch my previous wound on my head, only to find that it has healed.

"Where is she?" His voice is strong and demanding, just as his stance is. And then Rose slams into him, running them both into the opposite side of the room, gripping his ripped shirt with fury.

She hisses, "You have set us both on a path of death!" Her voice is accusative and harsh as she speaks, "I only hope Klaus sees the honor in returning that girl to him."

This is a chance. Quickly and quietly as I can, I slip out of the cot, holding in cries of pain as I make my way over to the rope that lies just a few feet away. There's only so much time before someone notices; it has to go just right. The rope is worn and used in my careful hands as I begin the fumbling process of tying a loop.

Trevor whimpers, fear shining in his hazel eyes as he says, "He will sacrifice her!"

Rose snaps at him, her patience having been pushed to the limit hours ago, "Then so be it!"

He looks at her like a kitten would look at a coyote, with much honesty and unneeded trust, "I love her, Rose."

It is then that my heart skips a beat. My unskilled hands hoist the rope over a nail that I spotted in the wall. Securing the end of the thing around the corner, I reach up, ready to end my own life, even if it hurts Trevor like that. Either way, it'll end. Better to die now, be sure that Klaus can never directly hurt me. But first I need to hear this.

"He'll kill you." Rose answers logically, "He will not stop until he has all of our heads."

"Then we shall run until we die." I hear him say. It's time.

I jump to my death and next thing I know is that my neck has cracked, that my life has ended, and then blackness overwhelms me, shutting everything else out forever.

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**Reviews please? :)**


	8. The Massacre

**Hello! I know that it has been months since I've updated, and I sincerely apologize for that. Because it has been so long and because, to be honest, I'm clinging to the hope that you'll keep reading, here is a long monologue on what happened in past chapters. Or you could re-read them if you wanted to. I condensed it all for you, though.  
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**Also, you may notice that I've changed the name from _Katerina Petrova's Story: 500 Years on the Run_ to plain _500 Years on the Run_. It seemed too long before. Oh, well.  
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**I really hope you like this chapter. I was inspired to keep writing this story by flower gettin' lady just as I'd begun to forget how much I liked writing it, so thank you for that. Also, thank you for those incredible reviews that I always received; I treasure each and every one immensely. Enjoy!**

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_Previously: _

_Katerina Petrova had a baby, which her mother and father gave up for adoption. They then kicked her out of the house and Katerina traveled to England, where she met Elijah and Klaus. They let her stay in their house and taught her a lot of knowledge. One day while Klaus and Elijah were away, Katerina snuck into the Study and found a moonstone, photograph and a note that talks of "beings of darkness", a.k.a vampires. She tells Trevor this later on and accused him of being a vampire. She also remembered finding out that Klaus and Elijah were holding people from the town for a certain sacrifice ritual. _

_Trevor kisses Katerina and tells her that he loves her. Klaus decides the sacrifice will happen immediately. Then Katerina was knocked unconscious, and was laid in the Study, where Elijah talked to Klaus. They discussed the situation and murmured about a possible gathering, a ball at the least, so that the town would not grow suspicious of their home and ways. But Elijah was reluctant with the people hidden in the shed near the woods, deteriorating until needed for the Sacrifice. Also, they discussed the matter of the two different curses - fake and real - and how Klaus intends on being a Hybrid - part vampire and part werewolf - quite soon and how that is why they hold this ritual. _

_After they realized that Katerina was conscious, they compelled her to forget all of the conversation that happened between the two and that she ever heard anything. But the compelling did not work that time for the next morning around breakfast time she remembered. She "remembers the talk in the study, how Klaus compelled her- everything!" After that, Trevor helps Katerina escape and she hides in Rose's cottage the he mentions. There, Rose feeds her blood to heal a wound and she commits suicide so that Klaus cannot use her blood for the sacrifice. And that is what happened.  
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_**England, April of 1492**  
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"She is not waking up!"

"Have patience, Rose. The transition takes time. I know that your schedule of returning her to Klaus is a timely one, but if you must do as you say, at least have the patience for it." Trevor says, his voice swimming through my foggy mind.

"Wait; she's arousing!" Rose's voice is sharp as I groggily try to sit up, opening my eyes in the process.

Feeling rushes back to my body, from my fingertips to my toes. Twitching my fingers first, I then sit up quickly as I can and jump into a crouch, ready for whatever will be thrown at me next.

As my eyes adjust to the scene, I feel remorse hitting me like a title wave. The room is a complete disaster; the tan sheets of the bed are torn to shreds and matted with dried blood. In the corner is a hanging rope, dangling from the ceiling as dauntingly as a snake. Trevor and Rose stand off to the side, near the wall. Rose has her arms crossed and her lips are pursed disapprovingly, whereas Trevor's hands are wringing with worry.

"What did you do, Katerina?" Trevor asks worriedly. His eyes light up at my sudden movements, and he begins to rush toward me. However much he is excited, it is dulled by his obvious anxiety for my previous actions.

"I would have helped you live," He continues, almost begging. His eyes show great sadness and remorse.

I counter, "You would have helped me run. How was that going to be enough?"

"It was enough for me," Trevor admits. His green eyes are dim in the soft light, yet they pierce through my skin and deep into my soul. It tears me apart to see him hurt. After all, he's been my friend for so long; two whole years. We've done everything together. Gone to town, stay up late, ride horses after dark, share secrets. And now that I know his utmost secret, we're back to round one. I debated leaving this place that had been my home for so long. Since I took the drastic step this time, it's up to me to follow through, or all is lost.

"She's used you, Trevor. This whole time. Your friendship was a lie. Klaus will see our role in all of this, you know," Rose declares rather icily.

"And for that, I'm sorry," I apologize.

"As am I. For this," Rose states. Suddenly, she's darting out at me, and her curly hair is whipping across her face as she raises her hand to shove a stake into my chest. Adrenaline pumps through me as my mind catches up to her speeding body parts; I quickly grab the owner of the house, the kindly woman who answered the door due to Rose's request, and duck behind her. As the dagger comes down, it obviously registers in Rose's mind what she did, and she appears horrified as the blood squirts from beneath the rough dagger and out of the woman's body.

The heavy scent of the delicious blood fills my nostrils, and in pure instinct, I bite down into the cool flesh of the dying woman. The rusty liquid seeps into my mouth, filling it with an overwhelming sweetness. It flows between my teeth, and I suddenly grin as I imagine what a sight I must be. Detaching myself from the dead weight that I hold, I lift my head and look right into Rose's and Trevor's eyes.

"Please understand," I beg.

"You have just signed our death sentence," Rose spits back, thoroughly upset.

In sudden rage, I voice my thoughts, "Better you die than I." And with that, I hurriedly speed out of the quaint little cottage in the middle of nowhere.

The wind whips my hair as I use my new-found freedom and speed to get myself away from that deadly place. In an instant, the thought appears in my head and I stop dead. _I can go anywhere. Anywhere I wish._

With that a small smile appears on my lips. In a flash I'm gone, having only left the leaves to flutter in the golden sun and my wake.

...

For a nearly four months, I leave England and travel abroad. I had always wondered about the outside world, and now that I had a chance to explore it, I seized it. Traveling across Europe, I stopped at France, Germany, Ireland and Italy among others. For weeks at a time, I roamed the upcoming and still small city of Paris, the crumbling ancient Rome and other towns and villages.

Home keepers welcomed me with open arms when I teased them with my eyes. I met a few other creatures of the night, and they, too, had learned the gift of bending will with our eyes. They called it compulsion; it intrigued me, and in that way I always cleaned up after my visits.

At night I'd go hunting, and during the day I'd socialize. Men would lean out their shoppes, and women would stare jealously out of the homes that they were imprisoned in. For the first time in a long time, I felt free. I did what I wanted, and no one had the authority to tell me otherwise.

I drank what I like, I danced how I like, I ate as much or little as I like, and there was no work to be done. 'Twas nice the first few months, but after that reduced to being boring. The sour taste of the expensive women's' wine and the plush feather-downed beds began to transform back into gritty water and mats on the dirt floor. My mind began to play tricks on me again. I attempted to enjoy the high-end lifestyle; I really did. But despite my efforts to shelve my homesickness, it always came back again at the worst times.

There was no denying it; I was longing for my mother's kind touch and my father's harsh words.

As I traveled through the different cities, I came across many more tall structures. They looked an awful lot like Klaus and Elijah's house, tall as can be. It appeared as though they, too, were two stories. It amazed me that people had such talent as to build them, but at the same time they saddened me. I missed our old cottage, nestled away in the middle of the Bulgarian woods. The kind trees surrounding it, shading and hiding it. The hurried one-story structure and familiar surroundings. There was nothing more I wanted.

Then, in the autumn season, in a time that others deemed a month newly named October, I suddenly decided to return home. Home to Bulgaria, to see my family at least once more. For all my traveling that I did, I never did find another place to call home. All I could imagine was my mother's soft face and my father's daunting appearance.

And so I returned.

It took quite a while for me to travel back to Bulgaria. A kindly human I met in Italy, Deangelo, accompanied me for part of the journey. We traveled by horse, and swiftly as possible too. He guided me all the way from Italy to Serbia, where he visited his relatives. I went continued on Southeast, over the border and finally into Bulgaria. For more than thirty days, we rode the horses. With me I carried some bread, berries and goat cheese. When the goat cheese ran out, we mashed up the berries and other plants we came across to spread over the fluffy bread. Along the journey, we acquired provisions from some of Deangelo's acquaintances. I quickly learned that he traveled back and forth between the two countries a lot, and made friends with a multitude of people.

So thus I carried the food, and was clothed in a soft brown cape. My skirts hung over the sides of the beautiful horse, and my long curly hair grew knotted over time. In another bag that Deangelo later gave me to hold was my wooden necklace stuffed with Vervain that my mother gave me so long ago, nearly two years. Though I cannot touch the actual locket any longer, I love to pick up the necklace by it's fragile chain and gaze at it. I cannot bear the thought of throwing it away. It's a piece of my mother, and it would be like throwing away her memory if I rid of the necklace.

The last leg of the journey I went without Deangelo. I knew I was safe, but did not feel so. The woods seemed to haunt my presence, and good nights were scarce, as I awoke often in the dead of the blackness, scared for no apparent reason.

The golden shining sun rose as, after a gruesome month of travel, I arrived back home. In a second I recognized the rolling hills and expansive emerald forests surrounding my town. There is no other place like this; no where else as beautiful as my home.

I urged the tired horse onward, across the crunching orange and yellow leaves and under the billowing branches. The closer I was, the more the trees thinned out as I entered my family's land. The beams of light penetrated the overhanging branches of the trees, and I smiled at the beauty of home.

The rough bark of the trees looked slightly different than any other I had seen, and the gentle grass underfoot was plusher than any I'd walked upon before. It sprang from the ground everyday, fresh as a daisy and clean from the rain. Stones formed a makeshift pathway and the horse's hooves clumped across them; clackedy-clakedy they went as his sturdy form ran across the stones and dirt.

Eventually the flowing branches and ever-crowding leaves part to let me through to the house. Excitement rides in my chest, and I grin in eager anticipation. I'll be able to see my mother and father after these rough few years. Finally.

As the emerald leaves part, my spirit falls.

Down and down it spirals as I first notice a tipped wagon. The forest is silent as ever; almost eerily so. Puling my dark hood back from over my head, I swiftly jump off the horse. I race to the wooden wagon, then look on in surprise and horror. Amon, our old field hand and driver, lays dead on the ground. His eyes are open, and his face displays fear. My eyes travel farther to the left and land on Amon's brother. He, too, is frozen in the position of death. I look to the left and to the right, and all around I find bodies of people that I used to know discarded on the rough forest floor. Women's' bosoms are stained scarlet and the men's' stomachs are punctured with bright red seeping liquid. Arms and legs jut out at unnatural angles, and each and every frozen face shows utter horror and disgust.

Chills race down my arms and in a second all I can think of is my family. Adrenaline pumps through my blood and I pick up my heavy skirts. My heart beats quick like a Hummingbird's and my eyes widen in concern. Hands shaking, legs rushing, I speed into the quaint and seemingly peaceful little cottage.

It was a mistake.

Everywhere I look is stained red: The beige walls, the crisp white bedding, the rough pale brown wooden floorboards, the furniture. The people. Everything is bloodied.

My eyes, horrified by the sight, travel to the left and over my father's figure, staked to the wall. Suddenly, I'm gagging in anxiety and nausea, overcome by the room's appearance. My father, my rough yet sensitive father, is strapped to the wall, staked like a sickly beast. His starch white tunic is turned crimson, and his strong chest caves where the sword is driven through. The delicate flesh and cloth above is sliced, as though he fought for his life. His head and greasy brown hair hang from his position, and droop unnaturally low; it's unearthly. The massive amount of blood seeping down the front of his tunic repulses me to a great degree.

An auditory gasp escapes my mouth, and I fly back into the wall behind me, stumbling.

"No, no..." I whisper, unable to believe the terrible sight right before my eyes. My hands tremble and cover my mouth, yet I can't seem to take my eyes off of him. I'm captivated and sickened.

Eventually I'm able to tear my eyes away with a distasteful whimper. But they fall right onto my poor, loving mother.

She's draped across the bed in what would be a fairly peaceful manner granted there be no blood. Her eyes are closed, giving her the appearance of sleeping. However, her chest is blossoming with rusty color. Her usually shining hair is matted and dulled with the scarlet blood, and it seeps from her stomach and chest across the sheets. The white cloth is dyed abhorrently, stained with my mother's life force.

At that, tears spring to my eyes and tortured sobs escape my mouth. I never wanted this. What did I do to bring this on?

I know; I know what I did. My transformation into a creature of darkness and Klaus's revenge for that brought upon this wrath of evil. I can't hold it together anymore. I just can't.

With that, saddened shrieks of rage escape my vocal chords, and I weep into my mother's cold chest. No, no. This can't be happening.

"No- No! No, Mama!" I cry, shaking the unmoving body as if it would respond.

Pain wracks my mind and I double over in fear and trembling sadness. Gasps, tears, shivers, wails and begging fill the otherwise silenced room. My tangled curls fall and my tears drip onto her still face.

My eyes fly across the damaged room, taking in my younger sister, leaning across the bed, dead, with blood seeping from her head. I also spot Abagail, one of our servants bleeding from her spot on the floor. So many bodies, so many people, so many lives: all taken.

My mourning fills the silenced air and the tragic sight forces me from the room not five minutes later.

As I dry my rivers of tears and put on a strong face, I vow never to come back to the house again. The painful memories would hurt so very much, and so as I walk from the house back to my spooked horse, I mentally put a block on these memories.

From now on, I'll only ever look out for myself. There's nothing else that could hurt me, and there will never be.

That's a promise.

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**Thank you so much for reading! Yes, it was fairly short, but I'm just getting back into the swing of this story, so please give me a little time. I'm so glad I could finally update, and I cannot wait to hear your thoughts! I'd love to know what you thought of it, and even what you didn't like so that I could fix it. Each and every review means the world to me, and I treasure all of them immensely. Thanks again for reading!  
**

**Thoughts? (:  
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	9. Valentin

**Hello again! So this is where the story starts to become mine. Katerina has at least 300 years between the time she leaves home and meets the Salvatore brothers, leaving us a lot to cover. The next few (or more) chapters will have a lot of paraphrasing the years, saying her habits and what she did. They may include different historical facts that really happened during her time. The three periods (...) mean that time has passed. Either a few hours to a whole day has passed, and it's just my way of alerting you readers so that you're not confused when reading. **

**Also, sorry if my Old English is really inconsistent. I tried to keep writing that way, but it felt like it would grow confusing. So it's only included sometimes, but hopefully it's still believable that it is old times. Thanks for understanding. ****So I hope you like this chapter and please leave a review! I love to hear your thoughts :) Enjoy!**  


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_Previously: Katerina hung herself, thus turning her into a vampire. She fled Klaus and Elijah's wrath and traveled Europe for a few months before deciding to return home. When she arrived home, she found all of her family dead and promised herself that she wouldn't ever look out for anyone else; it'd always and only be herself that she looks out for._

_**England, February of 1493**_

After returning home to Bulgaria, I decided to give it a break; live and explore a little.

When I reached France, the locals were excited and talking unbelievably. There was a man who, with a crew and boat supplied by Spain, reached a new, foreign land. Word spread all across Europe about this mysterious new land. The man supposedly called it the 'New World'. People had so many questions with no answers. The only people able to give answers were the man, Christopher Columbus, and his crew, and they were in the process of setting sail for another voyage. They were too preoccupied.

Still, people talked and inquired. The wondered how the world was so large, and questioned why Columbus did not fall off of the edge of the world. I laughed at their quick tongues and slow minds crammed full of information for their short lives.

I can live forever; have the experiences that they never will.

Soon I visited Spain, Portugal, Switzerland, Scotland and Great Britain, all of which were short but very entertaining weeks. Portugal was interesting and completely different culture than I'd ever experienced before. Switzerland was calming and relaxing, and weeks spent up in the mountains seem to have done me good. Scotland was joyful, and the Scottish were friendly and charming. The scenery was just breathtaking. The great land of Britain was a busy upcoming country. It didn't feel quite right to me, but was an excellent experience nonetheless.

In Portugal I met a few witches who bestowed me with a daylight ring. The ring is enchanted; they spelled it. It allows me the ability to walk in the sun once again and act human. Very few vampires have such a thing and they warned me to be wary of others stealing it, granted they figure out what power it has. Either way it is incredibly useful in my journeys and I shall forever more be in debt to the bloodline of Bennett witches. They helped me out tremendously.

After three months of visiting the countries, I grew weary of the repeating schedule. I wanted something exciting to do; something unexpected. I'd found other friends, vampires, in the countries, but all they were content with was feeding and celebrating each night. They partied and fed and never changed their habits. Every night the same thing. And on and on and on again. None of them had other motivations for living; I did. I wanted to see places, to see what I'd missed while at home. I wanted to forget my past, forget my family, and forget everything about Bulgaria. Without my family, Klaus couldn't hurt me anymore. Or so I thought, until one day the thought popped into my mind.

He could hurt me still.

Because there is one thing that I'd forgotten about over the past three years. One important part of me that was torn away from me by force. One part of me that I'd vowed never to forget. And now I've remembered.

My darling baby girl.

When Klaus killed all of my family, there is no possible way that he could have killed her. Father had yanked her from my bedside the second she was born and had thrown the responsibility of her onto another family. Therefore she could not have been murdered alongside the attendees of my home and thus lives. I have no knowledge of the family's name, but am sure that my darling is still alive. I know that I would be able to feel it if it were otherwise.

And so the thought grows in my travels. What if alive is what she is? Shall she grow up to resemble thyself or her father? Does she possess her father's twinkling green eyes and laughing face? What of mine?

Through the long nights and days of my journey, I wonder and ponder and wonder again. Soon inquiring grows to be an obsessive habit and I'm run out of my mind. I cannot question the fantasy any longer; 'tis making me mad and moonstruck, that's what.

Ergo I travel back to Bulgaria and back to the town that I had banned myself from visiting ever again. There are so many questions that require answers, and the answers start there. Within another month, I cross the border between Siolanae, a neighboring town, and Csaetaline, the old town that I used to reside in with my murdered family. Finally in Bulgaria and in the town that I used to call my home, I'm uneasy and jumpy, but eager to start the search.

Once there I have no clue where to start.

Do I start with the butcher? The baker? The town blacksmith? Everyone who ever knew about my secret daughter is dead; killed by the one and only Klaus. How can I pick up a clue that would lead me to my daughter?

**...**

Nearly an hour after I arrive at Csaetaline, around 11 o'clock at night, I've already paid for an inn and am laying in bed with Sergey, a man I came across in the outside streets. He looks vaguely familiar to me, but I pay it no matter as he must be new in town. No one in their right mind has shaven their facial hair. Though I have to admit, it makes his good features stand out more and makes him more handsome.

"Mmm... Mmmm," I moan. My eyelids are shut and my eyelashes are fluttering as the man's lips creep up my neck. The scarlet lips, delicate and creeping, move across my body, kissing. He too moans greedily, moving his mouth from my stomach all the way up to my neck and then my lips, leaving a trail of tingling kisses behind.

As his head and shoulders snake up my upper body, I let my fangs slide out, eager for a drink. _I won't drain him_, I tell myself. But in my heart I know otherwise.

When his neck reaches my mouth, as he kisses my forehead, I lean down. At first kissing his neck, I let my teeth graze just over the skin, so that they aren't touching quite yet.

And then I pounce.

The silky smooth crimson liquid squirts into my mouth as my teeth smoothly nick his skin, opening it up and letting the blood seep out. It's tangy yet sweet, and I close my eyes and enjoy my meal as he groans, unable to protest or resist. Sliding over my tongue, I swallow the liquid.

"Katerina," The man breathes as I suck his life force from him.

I pause as what he said sinks in. At the same time, deja vu hits me.

Suddenly I'm in another time, another place, where I messed up terribly. With all my being, I regret all that happened, and there is no way that I want it to happen again. And at the same time I realize why this man, this clean-shaven and insane man, appears so familiar to me.

I can't do this.

"I- I'm sorry," I apologize, detaching myself from him and untangling myself from the sheets. Licking my blood-covered lips, I lift my dress and shimmy into it. His eyes watch me in the darkness with disoriented interest as I move around the room, gathering my belongings.

I murmur, "This was a mistake," as I near the bed. The man who calls himself Sergey backs up, wary of me, and bumps into the back of the bed frame.

"What are you going to do?" His voice shakes as he asks.

Looking into his bright blue eyes, I attempt to keep my voice strong as I say, "You're not going to remember this. You're going to go home and forget. You spent the evening at home and kept it low-key. You never met me; I was never here."

"I never met you and I was never here," He repeats, mesmerized by my dilating pupils.

So as I stand there crying, Sergey walks out of the room and into the pitch black night, probably never to be seen again.

Why did I chose him of all people? Because he looked familiar? Well he was familiar. Too familiar; I didn't recognize him until he said my name. I never gave him my name. I never give anyone my name; I avoid that topic at all costs nowadays. Klaus cannot know where I am, and so I cannot leave traces. For example, a name. And yet this man knew it.

His blue eyes, too, were extremely familiar. They reminded me of someone that I used to know dearly; someone who was my lover's best friend. And this man is.

The name. That is mainly what deceived me. It is now Sergey, but it used to be Valentin. Did he change his name or lie? Why would he change his name? Why would he lie? That I don't think I'll ever know.

Valentin. My friend; my lover's friend; a long time family friend. When I came of age, I was supposed to marry Valentin, although I never did. Our families were never in the right situation to have the marriage. It was one thing or another. And then my baby came along; my lover's baby. It all fell apart then; I never laid eyes on Valentin again.

And at the same time as all of this, memories of _him_, my love, flood back, haunting me.

**...**

The next day, after having fed on some disgusting animals after letting Valentin (Sergey) go, I wake up with the sun shining across the bedspread. It takes me all of ten minutes to fix my hair and dress myself, and soon I decide to go in search of breakfast.

In the main room of the inn is an array of people, most being travelers and foreigners. The wooden table in the center of the cottage is piled high with eggs, toast, jam, berries and other assortments of food. People laugh and share jokes as they socialize over breakfast.

"Greetings. Art thou the young miss who arrived late last night?" A woman's voice calls to me. I look over my left shoulder and find a middle aged woman staring at me.

Smiling, I say, "Yes. Why doth thou ask?"

"No reason," She says, squinting at me curiously. "Thy name?"

"Ahh," I hesitate. "Emiliya." There is no possible way that thy wilt confide in this woman with my true name. I never trust anyone, least of all innkeepers. They gossip and talk to too many men.

"Well, Emiliya, doth thou care for breakfast?"

Attempting to be as polite as possible, I dimple, "Nay. Much thanks however. I needest be going now. Adieu!"

Racing out of the dark inn, I rush into the bright sunny air. Rays of warmth penetrate my skin, and I smile as I move along.

That was a close one. There is no opportunity for me to stay in this town for very long. Sooner or later someone else will recognize me and then I'll be sought out by Klaus once again. My soft shoes scrape over the tiny rocks and dirt as I seek for a store. Surely someone will know something.

Soon I emerge in a candle shoppe and the overwhelming scent of sweet candles makes me scrunch up my nose. Pretending to be human, however, I keep on moving toward the strong smell, detesting it the more as I grow closer. Looking around the pale life-lacking shoppe, I spy few women and even fewer men. I pick up a candle, fancily housed by a glass jar, and sniff: 'tis smelling of pine needles. 'Tis fascinating how one creates such a candle. Mind blowing, really.

Suddenly memories swarm my brain of thy lover and I. Startled, I lose my tight grip on the glass and it goes plummeting to the ground. The crystal-clear glass shatters into a million pieces, raining across the wooden floor. It tinkles as it settles, and I smile at the sound despite the dreadful situation.

"I'm so sorry!" I apologize to no one in particular as I look up.

Standing in front of me, a mere six inches away, is Valentin. His bright blue eyes twinkle knowingly and I groan internally.

"Need a hand?" He asks, stooping down to scoop up the shards of glass. They jingle in his rough palms as he carries them outside and dumps them in the dirt. I stand there, watching him all the while.

"Take a walk with me," He encourages as he holds out his arm for me to take. Gently, I place my own on top of his and move with him out of the shoppe. No one stops us as we leave without paying for the broken item and the shopkeeper speechlessly watches us go.

Once outside again the sun breaks through the clouds in a ring of light. My feet kick up dust as I stroll alongside my old friend.

After a minute of silence, it is obvious that he cannot take it anymore. He asks impatiently, "Katerina, I am not a fool. You're different; I recall the night of last. I have crossed the creatures of the dark in my age and know their tricks. Tell me, Katerina. Why are you back? Whither thee go these previous fine three years?"

"Valentin, let's not play any games but one. Thee asks a question; I ask one of thy own. Both answer. Splendid?"

"Splendid."

I continue on, "'Tis no business of thee to ask where thy was. But I return for a quest that thou could aid me in."

"Depends," Valentin answers, warily eying me as we stroll along. "What might the actions be that thy needest dost?"

I smile at his agreement, "Answer thy questions 'tis all. What know you of my child?"

Valentin acts surprised. His brown eyebrows raise in mock shock as he wonderingly implores, "Child?"

Staring at him with a harsh eye, I spot his teasing. To discourage it, I simply watch him until he grows uncomfortable.

"Fine," He sighs. "Rumors spread as soon as you left the country. We wondered why you up and left so quickly after having not emerged from the home in months. People questioned your existence. I, too, was curious until he finally told me.

"He retold the tale of your birth, much to thy surprise, and by my troth made thy keep the secret. Know I of your secret affair. He set after you, Katerina, and has not returned from his journey to find you. He loved you and was brokenhearted when your father uncovered the news. Katerina, your baby is in safe hands. Trust that. She grows strong and healthy. 'Tis none of your worry now; you let her leave. Doth thou recall? She is safe. Let her go."

Fury reaches my eyes and I strongly yank Valentin into a space behind the shoppe, where no one could spot us. My eyes scour his angrily. With his clothes clenched in my upset fist, I throw him into the back wall, towering in front of him.

I warn him, "Shall you keep this secret from me, I shall tear your family to pieces. Share with me, Valentin, her whereabouts."

For what appears to be minutes, his shining blue eyes search mine with sorrow and sadness. His sandy brown hair flops over his forehead, and he sighs wearily. His skin is flawless and his lips are pink with life as ever. He looks nearly the same as the few years ago. Only he's grown a bit. Gotten taller. Become more muscular. More manly. He grows and I stay the same; never changing.

"The next town over; Siolanae. 'Tis where thou shall find her. Good luck, Katerina," He wishes me on my way.

Without looking back, I set off, trusting of this man. He was my lover's best friend after all. Hopefully I'm right; hopefully he's right; and hopefully I find my darling daughter.


	10. Pride

**Hello! :)  
I realize that I promised to update soon, and I am terribly sorry for the lateness. I got caught up in a project with my friends, tennis tryouts, the start of school and all the homework that comes with it, and all in all I didn't have much time to write lately. So I'm trying to update again, because I absolutely love this story :)**

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_Previously: Katerina visited France, Spain, Portugal, Switzerland, Scotland and Great Britain. She then realized that Klaus could still hurt her by killing her daughter, so she decided to go back to Bulgaria to warn and check up on the little girl. She didn't know where to start, however, and gave up until the next day. That night, she laid in bed with a man who called himself Sergey, but she later realized that it was actually Valentin, her lover's best friend and the man she was meant to marry but never did. He told her that her daughter was in the next town over, Siolanae. Katerina sets off, trusting that this man told her the truth._

**England, February of 1493**

I took care as I crossed the boarder between the two towns, for they were often hostile towards one another. Distrustful folk gave me suspicious glances, and the mothers warned their daughters and sons away from the newcomer. Being from the next town over, people knew of others from that town; they heard gossip from the traders that go back and forth. They know of us, and cruelly dislike us for a reason unbeknownst to us.

Despite their mother's warnings, little boys attempted to approach me with eager and excited faces. I hurried along, returning the little boys to their mothers as immediately as I could. They thanked me with apprehensive eyes.

The town is far from quaint. I have never been in Siolanae myself, but mama and father often spoke of it, to scare us in our beds at night. They said that dangerous people lurked in the town and that any little boy or girl caught out after late would be fried the next day for dinner or supper. When they told me that, I often had nightmares for weeks. I wondered just how cruel someone can be until it bites them in the back.

But walking through these streets, I see that the people are suspicious, but not one of them seems exceedingly cruel. It softens my heart, to know that they care about their children; they are warning them from what appears to be danger, after all.

Often women appear as though they're going to ask me if I need something, but then they stand there, hesitating. They do not want to approach a stranger; they shall seem outcast granted they do. And no one desires being an outcast. 'Tis the worst action imaginable.

"Halt!" Calls a familiar voice. I turn around to find just the man that I was least eager to see.

"Why art thou not lost by this hour?" I roll my eyes, continuing on without giving this riff-raff a second glance. He grabs my arm. I gasp, "Valentin!"

"Thou knows not where to look in this town; thou knows not what the child looks like. Thou needs thy help," Valentin counters, raising his eyebrows as he suggests his services.

"I need not help from thou!" I cry, outraged that he think me so incompetent as to require his aid.

"In that, thou est wrong. Thou needs thy aid, only thou detests admitting it," Valentin hisses at me, his eyes blazing angrily.

I pout. I know Valentin well enough that he's going to everything in his power to keep me from journeying without him. I wonder why he wants to come so badly. Is he curious to see the baby that his best friend and I had? Does he wish that the little girl was his? Does he want to see what kind of life we would have had together? If the latter is the reason, I guarantee it would be filled with fighting.

Tilting my chin up just a bit higher, and mentally shrugging off his last comment, I walk on ahead. He follows without agreement from me, of course.

Five minutes later, when I realize that I have absolutely no clue where I'm going, I reluctantly turn back around to look for Valentin. It's probable that he knows where he's going. My daughter seems to have been the gossip of the town for the years I was gone, according to his babble about how he knows so much more than I.

"Doth thou have knowledge of where thy daughter resides?" I ask hesitantly.

Valentin smirks and steps in front of me, leading the way now. He says, "I was beginning to believe that thou would never ask for aid." He looks back just in time to catch thy rolling of eyes; I blush. Still, he keeps moving, forcing thy to hustle to keep up.

Eventually he stops at the end of a deserted lane and turns around, facing me. I put my hands on my hips.

I ask, "Where is she?"

Valentin only looks at me as if studying my posture and my movements. He avoids my question, saying, "I am truly sorry, my dear. But he told me to. I had no choice but to listen."

Baffled, I look around at the grungy buildings beside me. Structures tower over me on three sides, as if enclosing me. Thoroughly confused, I turn to Valentin and face him with more questions.

"Who told you to? What did he tell you to do? Why will thou not show me where thy daughter resides? Why art thou being so secretive? Answer me!"

He only shakes his head. A sad expression forms on his face, and he grins ruefully. Suddenly he says, "I had to. Forgive me, Katerina. Forgive me."

My eyes widen as I realize that he did something that shall be unforgivable. He's handing thy a warning, in hopes that I shall take it as a hint and scram from the town. I do. But first, I look back once as I dart from the alleyway.

With that slight glance back, I catch multiple things to store in memory. One being that Valentin's expression is of utter remorse and grief, though slightly hinting at something sinister. Secondly, I notice that there's a rumpled and unkempt look to him as of late. And lastly that there's windows above the shoppes in which anyone could look out of and spy upon our private talk. I scowl at the idea of a Peeping Tom.

The dust from the road billows up as my shoes slap across the ground quickly. I run away, fast as possible, from the man that may have betrayed I.

My mind is racing with thoughts quicker than my feet can move. Who was the man that Valentin reported to? Why did such man desire my actions? I want to find out. I'm desperate to find out. I need to find out. But how?

Suddenly an idea pops in my mind and I grin wickedly. Yes, that shall do perfectly.

Within a second, I'm out of Valentin's sight and scurrying down another road or two. I keep going, despite my wishes to stop, because I know that it shall confuse him doubly more granted I keep moving. Soon, though, I stop to survey my surroundings. I am not out of breath, for my quick vampire speed and remarkable healing abilities allow shocking lung strength.

People rush about the dirt roads, moving to their own pace as they greet each other and go about daily routines. I run down several streets, twisting and turning wildly, to reach this point. And I have an idea forming in my mind.

After roughly five minutes, I gather my thoughts and creep back to the alleyway that I had fled from minutes before. Quietly as a mouse, I tiptoe around the building in such a way that I avoid being spotted by anyone in the alleyway and anyone possibly passing by. I am completely secluded as I slip into the shoppe lining the alley. Earlier on, I had realized that there were windows overlooking the alley; and this building contained a few of them. With my blink-of-an-eye vampire speed, I hurry past the shopkeepers and customers and navigate my own way up the twisted old staircase. The farther up I go, the more it shudders under my weight with every step. I hurry my speed, afraid that it will come crashing down beneath me.

Finally I reach the top of the staircase; the attic. Pale light streams in from the small windows, and I tiptoe over to it. Looking straight out, I scowl at the sight; there's a brick wall staring back at me. But when I look down, a smile appears on my face; target spotted.

Valentin still stands dumbfound in the alleyway, with a frown etched onto his face. His arms are crossed, and his stance radiates anger. He doesn't move, and I stay there, watching him. For five whole minutes he just stands there, and then he starts pacing. He doesn't go far; only a few steps to the right and then back again, over and over. Then he stops and cocks his head, listening. A small smirk appears on his face.

"Valentin," Says a familiar voice smoothly. It sounds dampened because of the wall between I and the alley, but I would know it anywhere. Another scowl appears on my face.

A figure appears in sight. The scowl is officially etched into my expression from now on. The vampire walks closer to Valentin, stepping into the faded light of the alleyway.

Valentin smiles cruelly and bows to the man before him, "Elijah."

With his nose stuck up in the air and his eyes observing the scene around him, Elijah asks, "Where is Katerina?"

Valentin chuckles nervously; that was his mistake. Elijah speeds toward him, catching him off guard. He grabs Valentin's throat tightly, hissing in his face, "_Where is Katerina_?"

The pupils of Valentin's eyes dilate as he replies automatically, "She got away."

Furious, Elijah snarls and tells him, "Go kill thyself. I cannot have her finding out about our little deal. And I cannot risk you telling her the truth; that her precious little daughter lives a few mere cottages away from us. Only I am trustworthy of that information; not even Klaus shall know. So go kill thy self, thy traitor. Thou failed thy task."

Forcefully, Elijah lets go of Valentin's throat and he gasps as air fills his lungs once again. He chokes and then his features twist into fear as he realizes that he's compelled to do as he was told. Unwillingly, he walks over to a thick stick that was left in the middle of the alleyway and picks it up. His expression is full of agony and alarm. With shaky hands, he lifts the thick, rough wood above his chest.

"Please, no! Please; I beg of you!" He whimpers like a baby, his eyes pained. Higher goes the stake, until it's pointed over his own heart.

Elijah just looks on maliciously. His eyes scrutinize Valentin, daring him to do it. And so he does.

Suddenly the stake comes plummeting down toward his own chest, and he shuts his eyes, squeezing them harder than ever before. Scarlet blood squirts out from underneath his pierced skin as the stake drives in with a loud squelching sound. He lets out a strangled gasp and slumps down as his skin slowly turns grey and his veins pop out.

Valentin is dead.

I choke back a startled gasp, but keep on staring, incapable of looking away. My lifelong friend died before my eyes, and I did nothing to prevent it. I am a coward. A terrible coward.

Stepping over the body, Elijah tilts his head, looking at the dead man. Shrugging, he drags the body over his shoulder and smears the blood on the dirt around, making it look like they were never there. Elijah's evil eyes glint in the dim light as he exits the alley.

Shaking with fury, I speed down the staircase and out the front door minutes later.

I should have guessed that Elijah would find some way to keep tabs on me. He and Klaus; two Originals. They have incredible knowledge; I was a fool for thinking that I could outrun them, lead them astray. Of course Elijah would use one of my previous friends to get a hold of me. And then kill him like it did not matter.

A tear slips out of my eye and falls down my cheek in a tiny river. My throat feels thick; my breathing shallow. I want to lament Valentin, but cannot get over the fact that he would help my enemies, even if they compelled him to do so.

Where do I go from here? I still desire to find my baby girl. Wait; did Elijah not say something about her living only a few cottages away? Am I mistaken? Was it a trap? Oh, but I do want to see her so badly!

Five minutes later, I'm decided and it is official. When twilight falls and the sun disappears, I will begin my search. Until then, I will be wary of my surroundings; I would not want another deadly occurrence to happen.

As I walk down the dirt road, attempting to look as at home as possible, I think to myself: If only life were easy. It would be an idealistic reality, but it would most likely also be a bland reality. Despite the twists and turns that life throws, it is something to be thankful of, and to take advantage of. And that's exactly what I will do; use it to my benefit.

And so the long hunt begins.

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**Review please? :)**


	11. Thy Daughter

***Hint* Pay attention to the bolded words, for the time period was a little messy in this chapter again. If you become confused, please reread the last chapter :)  
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**I bet you all are bored of my excuses and just want me to write. But I'm swamped in all honors classes this year (I've never taken on that challenge before) so it's a little hard for me to find the time to write. Please forgive me. But I'm here now!  
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**Also, if you have an Instagram account, please go check out my pictures at karaatorr .  
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**Enjoy the chapter and please review at the end!  
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_Previously: Katerina went to the town Siolanae in search of her daughter. Valentin trailed after her and told her that he knew where her daughter lived. He led her into an alleyway and apologized for something she didn't quite understand. She ran off and he stayed. She went into an attic above the alley and watched as Elijah appeared and killed Valentin. Elijah said something useful; he verbally said where Katerina's daughter lived. Katerina makes a plan to go find her that night._

**England, February of 1498**

Each minute as the sun slowly set, I grow more anxious. Eager to find my daughter, I pace in the cloaking shade of the emerald trees just outside of the town Siolanae. When the last orange-tinged rays of the day fall and disappear, I step out from my hiding place. My long, tangled brunette hair flows through the grasping fingers of the wind. Shivering as I walk over the cold, damp ground, I stare at the small village in front of me as I make my way toward it.

**It has been five whole years since I last tried to find my daughter. At that time, Elijah had wrecked my plan as he interfered with it and killed one of my good friends, Valentin. It was not that good a day for me. I decided to take it easy and make sure that he was not staying near my daughter anymore, and so I decided to lead him astray by leaving, myself. For five years, I wandered from country to country, my small little daughter always on my mind. I have killed and been careless and been kind and been patient. I had come across so many small children, and each time I only thought of my own and how I ached to get back to her. Yet I would not go back right then because I was convinced that Elijah was following me.**

**However, it got to the point that I felt like I needed to come back. My heart was torn when she was yanked from my arms, and until I meet her it will always stay torn. Now back in town, I have waited all night in the woods for the chance once again to meet my darling baby girl that I gave birth to.**

After eight years of never seeing my daughter, this will be it. This will be the big moment. It's such a long time to wait... And yet it flew by so quickly.

I don't have a full plan yet; I gave up once I realized that nothing I ever thought up would go right. It never goes right. So I decided to leave my actions up to whatever I seem to do at the time. The first thing I'm going to have to figure out, I realize, is how to get into my daughter's house. Do I just tap on the door, like a visitor? They do not know me; why would they invite me in? Or do I climb in? That leaves the chance of someone seeing me sneak in, though, and then them screaming. No, I better not. Or, possibly, do I wait until morning and the girl exits the cottage? Do I approach her then, like a stranger? What will I do?

As I continue on, the butterflies multiply in my stomach. I'm nervous and excited and fearful - what if she is not what I wanted? - and jittery and anxious and oh-so-many-things! The lanterns that are lit in town glow softly in the dark of night as I creep closer.

After hesitating for a minute, I decide to invade families' personal space and peek through the cracks in the walls of the cottages. When I have three houses down and peeking in the fourth, I spot what I've been searching for. It's her. It has to be. Is it not?

In the thin crack between the splintering pale brown wood logs, I spy a small girl shrouded in dim candlelight. As she dances across the small room, her long shining brown hair swishes behind her. When the light hits her face, I can make out all of her perfect features.

She appears to be about seven or eight, with a cute and well-rounded face. Her eyes are bright green, and her eyelashes long and dark as they can be for a seven- or eight-year-old. She moves with an air of elegance, and I'm forced to smile at how such a small child could have such obvious confidence. She's delicate and adorable and I just want to pick her up and cuddle her right now. I want her to be mine. Is she mine?

I realize after a few minutes that it would be bizarre to just waltz in and declare that I'm her mother. It would sound absurd, especially if her adoptive parents had not told her that I was her real mother. If they let her believe a lie. Plus, I am a vampire, and it forbids me from entering homes without permission. That is the damnedest thing I ever knew, and I never believed that would come with being a vampire. Therefore, I cannot enter my child's home, for I have no granted permission.

And so I decide to take it slow and calm down; breathe a little before I make anything dramatic. We can take this slow. I will start by greeting her tomorrow on the road, or by accidentally crossing paths with her. Yes, that is what I shall do.

And so, glancing back with one last look of longing, I stroll back to the covering woods and sit down, ready to wait out the night. The owls hoot and the wolves howl until the dead of night. Then, for a few hours, all is silent until the sun slowly stretches its new rays of light across the land and the birds begin to sing as the dawn of a new day arises.

All night I watched my little child's cottage, to be positive that no being would harm her. As I rise from my stiff position on the ground, I can feel my muscles grown beneath me from having been tense and cramped all night. Shaking it off, I speed around town and out of sight of the cottage, confident in the plan that I formed that night. The cottage in front of my child's possesses a few windows, too, making it the perfect place to watch for her. The only problem is if the owners decide to come into the main room, where I will be watching from. I wait for two hours behind that cottage, watching the one in front of me. But I am cramped and wish to be comfortable. I scowl, and then an idea comes to mind. A small grin lights up my face from my previous frown.

In order to get in the cottage that is across from my child's, however, I wait, peeking in the windows, until a small child comes to the front room. When she does - she appears to be around my own daughter's age; eight years old - I smile kindly and tap on the door, mimicking opening it.

She, too, possesses beautiful long and glossy brunette hair. It flows down her childish back in waves of color, reflecting all different shades of brown. Instead of the green eyes that the other child possesses, this child has soft, chocolatey brown eyes.

"Greetings," I say, being sure to soften my voice and make it sound rather soothing. I do not want the child to be afraid of me.

"What is it that thou desires?" She asks curiously.

"May I come in?"

"I shan't invite strangers in. What is thy name?" She asks, blinking her long brown eyelashes innocently.

I cannot help but grin in her presence; she is simply beautiful, and she has a spirit that overwhelms me; I know it from across the room.

Curtsying, I answer, "Katherine Pierce, my lady," answering with the first name that comes to mind.

"I like you, Miss Pierce. Come in," The little girl giggles and grabs my hand, leading me to the front room. "How long wilt thou be staying?"

"Only a few hours," I smile kindly and sit down on the chair that she offers. "What be thy name?"

Almost giddily, the small child hopped onto the other chair in the room, her eyes bright and her smile wide. Her voice twinkles as she replies, "Atira."

"What a lovely name. It is darling to meet you, Atira," I keep on grinning, unable to stop.

For twenty minutes, Atira leaves me and goes off to begin her chores. She told me that her family will remain sleeping for some time, as they always do. And I believe her, for she seems trustworthy enough. She is darling. I only hope my own child is that sweet.

As I stare out the window, watching the house in front of me, I can only wonder. Does my child know that she is not theirs? Does she know that she was adopted? Does she feel me trying to find her?

Atira shocks me out of my thoughts by saying, "What art thou thinking?"

Patting the cushion beside me, I invite her to sit down. I smile softly, looking at her carefully. I say, "Do you see that house right out there? Do you know the little girl who lives there?"

She looks at me confusedly. Her large brown eyes study my features as she tries to figure out what I mean. She replies, "Yes, I know of Sage. But she is not a nice little girl." Atira frowns.

Worry sweeps through me. My little girl is not kind? Whatever does she mean? Fear grips my heart for a minute before I sigh.

I whisper, "What doth thou mean?"

"Sage keeps to herself. She does not play with us children, and she does not act like us. She is cold; mean. I do not like her," Atira whimpers. I pull Atira closer and kiss the top of her cute little head as I stare at nothing, wondering how my child ended up like that.

When morning comes, I slip out of the house quietly after saying my goodbye and thanks to Atira.

The cold wind bites my nose as I hurry through the crackling leaves beneath foot. My hands are already going numb as I take my last steps toward the house. Head down, eyes averted, I shuffle the last step just as the door creaks open.

"Oh!" A child's soft voice hits my ears and I try hard to appear indifferent, even though I suspect that this is my long-lost daughter. I look up to meet the young girl's hard green eyes. This must be Sage.

My smile wavers as she calls for her mother. I do not desire to speak with that woman; I desire to speak with young Sage.

"Who art thou?" Sage asks suspiciously.

"Katherine. May I speak to thee?" I look at her inquisitively.

Her slanted green eyes narrow even further; butterflies of nervousness hit my stomach. I have a bad feeling about her.

That's ridiculous. She is my daughter. Bad feelings do not arrive with that sort of gift. I should not experience this uneasiness that I do. But she seems too harsh to be mine. Much too harsh.

"No," She pouts and with all her strength tries to shut the door. I reach out a hand and stop it before I even realize what I am doing.

"Please," I beg.

Sage looks at me long and hard, and then sighs, "Speak."

"Art thou not from thy mother's womb? Art thou not related through blood to thy family?"

Her sharp emerald green eyes squeeze shut, calculating, and her teeth clench. It is obvious that I am upsetting her.

Suddenly another face appears behind Sage. An aged woman with beautiful gray hair, but worn eyes comes to the door. She asks, "Whom art thou speaking to, Sage my dear?"

Little Sage's eyes light up at her mother's raspy voice and she replies honestly, "Katherine."

Her mother's jaw tightens when she sets eyes on my haggard mien. She says stiffly, "Who art thou, Katherine? Doth thee perform devilish tricks upon innocent children? Begone with thee!" Sage's mother slams the door shut in my face.

Stunned, I stand there for a minute until my emotions catch up with me and fury tears through me. Why doth she have the authority to disrespect me so? 'Tis not right.

Before I know it, I am pounding on their door, my fist nearly shattering the tough maple wood with my anger.

The lock clicks open and the door swings open with haste.

"What doth thou desire?" Sage's mother hisses sinisterly.

After a moment of thought, I breathe in deeply, ready for an honest answer. I inquire, "Art thou the true mother of young Sage, biologically?"

The woman's eyes close and after a second she sighs and whispers ever so softly, "No."

"No?" I repeat, unsure of the answer. I expected the opposite.

"I am thy child's true biological mother, and I plan for it to remain that way. Now good-day, my dear." With that, the maple-colored wooden door shuts with a gentle click.

Wandering the streets, nearly lost in my mind, for a day leaves famished. After sedating my hunger with a fresh meal, I lick my lips clean of the silky crimson blood and fix my skirts. With a filled stomach, I tend to think better. And what thoughts I have.

Hesitation leaves me pondering my actions for a minute. Though before I can knock, the door swings open and a familiar face peers up at me happily.

"Why Atira, darling. Whatever art thou up at this hour for?" I ask happily, bending down to the girl's height and taking her hands, twirling her.

Newly fed, I typically tend to act a bit overly dramatic such as in this instance. But Atira enjoys it this fortnight, giggling and screeching extremely hard as I twirl and twirl and twirl her into a fit of laughter. At that, her mother and father appear at the door frame, watching their child have the time of her life. With their sudden presence, I regain my manners and gently disengage my own hands from the small girl's. Her bright brown eyes twinkle with enjoyment and disappointment as I let go.

Politely, I rush to stand, fix my skirts, and curtsey all at once. It occurs to me later that I must have a ghastly mien.

"Good evening," I grin hesitantly as my eyes travel upwards to meet Atira's parents'.

"Who art thou who makes my daughter laugh so?" The rumbling voice of the man booms.

"Katherine Pierce, sir."

The man rubs his whiskery chin thoughtfully, "Katherine, eh? Darling Atira told us much wonderfulness about thee to-day..."

Her father's eyes penetrate mine at though attempting to see into my soul. Eventually he deems, "Enter."

A sigh escapes my lungs as Atira grabs my palm. I squeeze her small one happily as we move from the ever-darkening night into the dim cottage. Worry sears through thyself. Did Atira say something that she should not have? Am I in trouble with her family?

I came back in hopes of finding out more information on who thy child is. If Sage be not, than who art thy daughter? Had Valentin repeatedly toyed with my mind, telling me that my daughter still lived? Is she dead? Or is she only in another village, waiting for me?

It is difficult to refrain from immediately blathering many questions. When I sit down, my inquiries flow out.

"What doth thou request?" I wonder heavily.

The man's dark blue eyes pierce mine as he replies, "Art thou seeking an adopted child?"

In that moment my spirits rise. Doth he know of another in this dreaded town? Or is he also messing with thy mind? Hopefully it is a nice little girl. Not cruel nor rude, but most definitely spoiled. O, I hope that she is spoiled!

Eyes bright and smile wide, I eagerly say, "Why yes! Doth thou know of any?"

The suspense that hangs in the air is breathtaking. I forget to breathe as my leg subtly jumps up and down under my skirts; a nervous twitch I acquired from a friend long ago. My palms seem to sweat, though I know it is impossible. I am a creature of the darkness; I do not posses such human characteristics. My heart cannot beat wildly like I let myself think, for I have no heart. I am dead. It beats not. My cheeks are not flushed pink like they should be in this eager anticipation. And yet they are not. I am statue-like. Immobile.

"Aye," the man clears his throat loudly, looking over at his wife. I assume that he catches her eye to ask permission for releasing such harmful information to a stranger.

His fearful blue eyes meet mine as he whispers, "Thy daughter is the child thee seeks."

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**Hope you liked it! PLEASE review. I'm lacking a lot of inspiration right now, but I'm still itching to write. But what of, it's difficult to say. Love you all who did review. xoxoxo**

**Thoughts? :)**


	12. Bittersweet Years

**Hello again! Thank you for all the reviews last chapter. I am dearly sorry it has been so long since I have updated, but I have had things to do. I realize that we have not covered the issue of sunlight yet in this story. Of course, in the real Vampire Diaries, no vampire can go into the sun without a lapiz lazulis stone (or however you spell it), but in this version it will be a little different. To suit the story's needs, Katherine will be able to be outside in daylight during this chapter - just go with it please. I'm doing this so as not to confuse you further. If I went by L.J Smith's rules for vampirism, I would have to go back a few chapters and add a scene, and that would just confuse you guys further. My point is this: ignore the fact that Katherine can walk in the sun, and please just let it happen. Thanks.  
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**Also, I really hope that you enjoy this chapter and that it suits your desires :) I had fun writing it again. Read & review, please!  
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_Previously: Katherine went back to Bulgaria (to the town Siolanae) to find her daughter five years after she last tried. Last time she encountered Elijah, who killed Valentin and put Katherine in harms way. This time she went to find her daughter, who she believed to the be a little girl named Sage. After talking to Sage and her mother, Katherine figured out that she is not related to Sage, and therefor cannot be her mother. She was then invited into Atira's house, who is another girl who lives across the road from Sage. Atira's father talks to Katherine and she finds out the truth. Katherine is actually sweet little Atira's mother._

**Bulgaria, February of 1498**

Shock freezes my features as the words of little Atira's papa sink in.

I'm... Atira's mother? Why, that is amazing! She appears to be such a darling child, quite easygoing too.

Though, I'm puzzled. Why would her father, Gazarold, and mother, Alizabyth, tell me such news? I believed that they loved her. Do they not desire to keep her? Do they wish her to be in my possession? For it would be difficult. I have no partner to help me watch over her. I have no experience with parenting. And, I am a creature of darkness; it would be all too difficult to live with the child.

"What doth thou think?" Alizabyth asks me kindly. Her blue eyes search mine worriedly. Wrinkles of laughs over the years have aged her eyes and cheeks. Her hair is beginning to grey; however, her smile appears to be that of a young girl. She is a very pretty lady, but it is obvious that she has had some difficult times; her appearance reflects that.

"I... I believe that I love young Atira most greatly. However, why art thou speaking to me of this?"

Alizabyth's face draws tiredly. Fear grips my heart for the young girl's sake as Gazarold speaks instead, ignoring the fact that I addressed Atira's mother.

"We have a death sentence. Thee mother and father have committed a terrible crime, my dear young Atira."

Horror strikes down upon Atria and I. My mouth hangs open similarly to that of a gaping fish. Atira's eyes are wide and her gentle lips are trembling with fear.

Her sweet chiming voice whispers, "Thou art... Set upon death penalty? By what cause?" Atira's dark chocolate eyes zigzag to and fro, as her breathing picks up speed.

Gazarold's booming voice hits the ears once again, "Thee need not know that information. Thou should leave. Right away. Atira, go pack your belongings. Thou art leaving with thy true mother, Katherine."

My mind is swarming with details. I stutter, "Sir, what art thou speaking of? Thou art the true parents of Atria. Thee have raised her, whether or not I care to admit such a sadness." My voice wavers as I confess the truth. Their eyes strike mine as I stare pleadingly.

There is no point in attempting negotiations. I am receiving thy daughter whether I like it or not.

Without him saying anything, I watch as Garazold pulls his daughter to him in a big bear hug.

Sweet Atira has tears running down her pale cheeks in little streams. I watch her whisper into her father's ear, "I love you, father. Remember that."

Shuttering sobs wrack her whole body as she begins to lose herself to sadness. The girl's hair sweeps down in front of her sorrowful face, shading her wide brown eyes from me.

Alizabyth pulls me over to the other side of the room by the forearm.

Her voice is sharp, though it has a kind tone to it, when she says, "Katerina, thou shall keep our daughter safe, correct?"

I nod my head vigorously, my curls bouncing up and down.

"Of course I shall care for her. Most eagerly, too," I say. And then I pause, wondering, "How doth thee know of thy true name?"

Alizabyth's eyes crinkle as she smiles, "Doth thou not remember, Katerina? Thee mother and father brought you to thy home once in a while. Thou art thy cousin."

My eyebrows shoot up in surprise? I have another cousin? Well. 'Tis good, I suppose, that she held onto my daughter. I wonder why my parents gave Atira to Alizabyth.

"Well, 'tis nice to see thee again, cousin," I respond graciously.

Her eyelashes flutter and her lips curl into a sincere smile. I, too, smile back at her.

Suddenly, Alizabyth says, "Well hurry up. We've not much time now."

Garazold reaches for Alizabyth's arm and pulls her into a hug, and then he pushes Atira toward me.

Atira looks at me with her wide brown eyes, but suddenly she blinks and runs back to Alizabyth. She wraps her arms around her in a tight hug and whispers 'I love you' in her ear. She then runs to Garazold and does the same. He lifts her up and smiles a great big smile at her. Setting her down gently, I can see his lips tremble as he fights tears. Atira takes a deep breath and then turns back to me, trying to smile. However convincing she may be, I can still see her sadness lingering behind her plastered smile.

I reach out my hand, and Atira takes it.

"Thank you. Good luck, and goodbye," I thank Alizabyth and Garazold.

And then, without looking back again, Atira and I walk out the door and into the wide world that is waiting for us.

**Bulgaria, February of 1498**

It's been three days since Atira was handed over to me, and I have to say that I believe we're well off. I tried to be subtle about compelling people, because I don't want Atira to be scared out of her wits, but it's much harder to do than I ever believed. For so many years, I've relied on compulsion, and with Atira here? I don't know how to live anymore.

"Atira, sweetie! Careful over there," I call to her. We're walking to the center of town, a different town in Bulgaria named Berkschire, and Atria had bounced away from me to go look at some flowers. "Come on, honey," I tell her, "Don't you want to get the bread you've been craving?"

I bite my lip as I think about food. I haven't eaten in three days, and it's becoming difficult. I don't want Atira to know who I am, so I can't leave her during the day and she's a light sleeper, so it'd be impossible to feed at night without her noticing I'm gone. I'm puzzled.

"Just a minute, Katherine," Atira shouts back to me from across the waving green grasses, "I've the perfect bundle of flowers." She picks the last one to her bouquet, a crimson rose, and then turns back to me, a smile stretching across her face. She races over as fast as she can with her dress in tow, stumbling over the lace and train on the way.

Her little face is lit with excitement and eagerness, and I am forced to smile in return. She does look just like me. Her olive skin has turned rosy in the cheeks from exertion, and her brown eyes are wide with adrenaline. Atira is so precious. Just by looking at her, I can feel myself growing sentimental and desiring to go back to when I was her age; eight years old. It was such a carefree life. It was very much welcoming.

"Katherine," Atira begins with seriousness. A little crease forms between her eyebrows and her lips press together as she ponders what she will say next. Taking a deep breath, she begins again and I listen eagerly as she says, "Katherine, why are you so sullen all the day? Shan't thou be having the time of your life? I am. I love having thee as thy mother; thou art so kind and joyful when thee desires to be."

I grin, but I know that it doesn't reach to my eyes. I reply, "Could this wait for another time, Atira? We have almost arrived upon the village. I shall tell you when we get home, yes?"

Atira pouts but nods. Her eyes dim with sadness that she did not receive her way, and her arms cross in front of her, crushing the flowers. I reach for her hand, and she reluctantly grabs mine.

"Come now," I whisper and smile, "Let's go scour the town for whatever is of liking."

At that, Atira grins happily and hands me the flowers. "They're for you, Katherine," She says sweetly.

I'm touched; Atira is the sweetest little child ever. I'm am extremely grateful to be her mother, and to have received her after all I've been through. I can feel that this day will be good.

**Bulgaria, February of 1498**

Three hours later, we're loaded with bundles of food and clothing. I have splurged on Atira in celebration. As of now, we're in a small shop near the edge of town, with herbs and spices and such. It smells of rosemary and basil, and parsley and cinnamon. Everywhere your eye travels, there are jars of spices up and down the isles. It is quaint yet beautiful in a nostalgic way.

"Katherine, come smell this sweet scent!" Atria cries excitedly from the other end of the store. I hurry to her, with my long dress trailing behind my swift movements.

Atira places the small bottle in my palms and lets me sniff the wonderful scent. It is a unique fragrance; a mix between spices and flowers. Tangy yet sweet. Atria then motions for me to open my palm so that she can hand me a pinch of the unique herb. However, when Atira sets the beautiful plant on my palm I am forced give a small cry in pain, shoving the plant back into the bottle it came from. The owner of the store peers at me curiously as I mutter, "Thorns."

But I know it wasn't thorns. And I know that Atira knows. The purple and green shriveled plant has no thorns, and it burnt like wildfire was crawling up my arm. I bite my lip in pain as Atria watches me with intense curiosity. After placing the bottle back on the shelf gently as possible, I grip Atira's shoulder and lead her, and our bundles, outside of the quaint shop.

"What was that?" Atira wondered with large eyes.

"I haven't a clue," I reply gravely. Such a strange incident. I try to shake it off, but it is more difficult to do than I would have thought. For what reason did it burn me, though not Atria? Bizarre is what it is. No matter. It shan't get to me. This is my wonderful day with my darling daughter and nothing can ruin it.

**Bulgaria, February of 1498**

Walking to our residence from the village, Atira and I speak no further, each lost in our own thoughts.

When we reach the cottage that we are currently taking up residence in, I hold the door open for Atira as we file in with our bundles of goods. After putting each item where it belongs, I face her and ask her what she would like to do for to-day.

Atira grins, asking, "Wilt thou play with me in the field, mama?"

At that, my heart jumps as I recognize that this is the first time she has ever called me her mother. I'm touched, for it passed so easily through her lips. I smile widely as I feel contentedness fill my heart. I'll do anything my darling daughter pleases.

"Of course," I comply, and watch as she races out of the cottage swiftly. After staring after her for a minute, I shut the door behind me, and then decide to chase her.

My friend Thaymer is letting us reside in this cottage until we shall decide to move. I met Thaymer a few years back as I traveled Europe on my own before trying to find Atira. Thaymer owns this cottage, and it is located a little outside of town. Surrounded by beautiful trees and fields that stretch endlessly, it is a beautiful home. He too is a creature of the night, just like me. As of now, Thaymer is traveling for a few days and shall return soon. Until then, the cottage is Atira's and mine.

The vibrant green grass cushions my feet as I gracefully weave between the flowers of the field, following Atira. I grin as the chilling wind slaps my cheeks and tingles my skin. The warm sun beats down upon my exposed skin, calming my fears and opening my senses. Dirt sprays and I can feel the grains between my toes as I chase my sweet little daughter. The pastel flowers wave in the breeze, and the sky is a soothing blue.

My skirts grow heavy in my tight grip and I drop them, letting them drag through the dirt as I weave through the grasses. Up ahead, Atira skillfully bounces in front of me, proud of her speediness. She glances back smugly, and sees that I'm further behind than she first thought.

I speed up, and the grasses whip at my legs and dress as I cut through the foliage toward my little girl. I realize that I am moving way too quickly; Atira is within an arms reach away. Worriedly, I slow down, knowing that I was going too fast. No human could run at the speed I was moving. Biting my lip, I restrain myself and just try to enjoy the natural beauty that the day is providing us.

After another minute, Atira plops down on the grass, completely worn out. Her breathing is uneven as she tries to regain composure. A wide smile is stretched across her face and she fingers the slick grass beneath us. I grin at her as I sit down, too.

Soon, Atira's grin fades and another serious look replaces it. She asks, "Where is your family, mama?"

My smile falters, and I can feel a pained look flit across my expression. I hadn't dreamed that she would ask this question for quite some time. What do I say? Do I lie? I can't. Do I tell the truth? I can't. What shall I do?

I hesitate for a moment and then answer, "They aren't here anymore, Atira. They are gone."

Atira's eyes widen disbelievingly, "As in deceased?"

My heart breaks as I'm forced to nod. I never should have told her. But how could I have avoided it? I couldn't.

She grabs my hand in her small one, and reaches over to hug me. I embrace her, too, and let my chin rest on her shoulder as she cries. I'm without tears and sullen. As Atira shakes in my arms, I can feel her sorrowful tears slipping down her cheeks and staining our dresses with wetness. After a minute, I hear her small voice as she whispers, "How?"

I remain silent for a minute, causing Atria to disengage herself from me and look up at my expression. I hope that I'm unreadable. I don't want her to know those gory details. But I seem to have no choice.

"They were killed by someone very cruel, Atira. That is all you ought to know," I reply tersely, hoping that she understands that I do not desire to talk about it anymore.

Atira looks down at her lap. She fingers the green dress fabric lovingly. It is a rich emerald green color; perfect for her complexion. It looks beautiful on her.

Dropping the dark subject of death, Atira jumps up and holds her hand out to me. She smiles as though she has a secret, which I have no doubt that she does. I take her hand and she says, "Let us go ride some stunning horses. I found a valley very near; you will love it, Katherine."

She tries to pull me toward her valley, but in sudden determination, I kneel down and look her in the eyes. She looks at me, wide-eyed, as she waits for me to say something. Finally, I tell her, "Please do not call me Katherine; call me Katerina, for it is my real name. Atira, there are many things that thou do not know about me, but I need thou to trust me. Will you do that, Atira? Please?"

Atira smiles with a smile that light up her whole face and make her dimples prominent. She replies, "I trust you... Katerina." She giggles with the new name and then tugs on my hand again. I let her lead me down the hillside and laugh along as she sings my true name all the way down. And I know I can trust her. She's so precious, and she's mine forever.

**Italy, June of 1503**

It has been years since I first found my daughter. Years have passed and we have traveled Europe. I have shown her lands that she had never dreamed of. As of now, we are in Florence, Italy and my darling child is thirteen years old. It seemed such a short time ago that she was eight, and that I had been dancing in fields with her. Much has changed since then.

We do not speak much of my family, for Atira knows now that we are all that is left. She does not pry, which I appreciate. She does not ask many questions about me anymore, but I realize that she hints upon what I am. Still, she stays near me and seems to know in her heart that I would never let anything hurt her. I have caught her peeking at me sometimes when she thinks not I am looking, and I have seen her conflicted expression. I know I shall have to confess to her sometime, but I suppose I am regretting what will be the loss of my daughter. I wish I could hide from her forever.

She has surely grown into a beautiful child, although her curly brown hair has lightened over time and her skin has turned paler. Her eyes are not as chocolaty, but more chestnut than ever. She looks not like I anymore, but 'tis fine. Atira is gorgeous in her own way, and I still know that she is my child, no matter what she appears like.

It is nighttime as of now in Florence. Atira is safe in bed; I tucked her in myself. A month ago, I compelled this homeowner to let us stay here for however long we like. The man was more than happy to agree.

I slip out of my bed and tiptoe to my door. My feet are cold as I cross the freezing marble floors. I shiver. Creaking the door open, I peer out into the still darkness of the corridor that leads out of the edifice. Silent as a ghost, I sneak out quickly and shut the door behind me. As I open the front door, the scents of nature and Florence waft into the building. I close my eyes and smile as I breathe in the fragrance of freshly cut roses and lilies. Stars twinkle in the sky and I shut the big wooden door behind me with only a small creak to be heard. Instincts kick in as I slink down the street on alert for drunken men. Despite the sour taste of them, they are easiest to seduce at night, and the easiest prey overall. Well-known drunkards are more likely to die than well-respected men, especially in the dead of night.

The dirt that creates the road, and the small stones that line it, press harshly against my feet as I walk. Shivers run up and down my arms as I realize that I forgot my shawl. It is better that I not be seen with bare arms, and therefore I shall keep away from busy areas.

It is barely hours after supper and already the night has begun. Men stumble about in the darkness with torches ablaze, and women are fast asleep in their beds. The moon is bright and shining as I cross the street, glowing conveniently for me as I try to find my way. Eventually, I stop next to a building where I know men gather each night in celebration of life. This is where I find my prey.

I lean against a wall of the nearest building and wait for someone to walk by. As time stretches on, I sense a figure spying upon me, but when I look around, I see none. For minutes more I wait in eerie silence. I can feel someone watching, waiting, calculating. It must be one of those silly men around the corner, wondering why a women is awake at such a time of the night. I smile slyly. What they do not know.

After what seems like forever, I can smell the sweet scent of a man's boiling blood. He is loud and jubilant as he wishes his acquaintances a good night. His breath reeks of alcohol as I approach him. My nostrils flare at the delicious fragrance of his blood, and my gums ache inside my mouth as my teeth threaten to unsheathe.

It takes a minute, but the man finally notices me. I beckon him to come closer as I try my best to look tempting. No man will resist me.

Smiling seductively, I whisper, "Come closer. What art thou name?"

"Dante," He breathes, entranced by me.

"Why art thou wonderful, Dante," I giggle flirtatiously. Then I pout jokingly, "And so... delicious," I breathe in. My skin itches as I restrain myself as long as I can, but when I realize I can't wait any longer I go for the kill. "Don't scream, Dante."

The young man's eyes dilate as I bend him to my will. Suddenly he jumps back in fear as he sees my facial features transform. It is always more fun when the men are scared, and so I let them be. I just do not desire that they draw attention, and so I relieve them of their voice, which would not make a difference anyway. It could not save him.

Before he can get away, I easily catch up to him and swing him around. My teeth pierce his neck as I catch him in my tight grip in the dark of the alley. I close my eyes in pleasure when his silky blood hits my tongue. Delicious, just as I predicted.

Suddenly, I hear something that sounds like a gasp. My eyes flash open and I search around me for the source as I disengage myself from Dante. His head rolls back, for he is unconscious. I hear another stifled gasp, and I immediately pinpoint the source. It is a pitch-black night except for the moon, but it is no trouble for my hunter eyes. As my vision sweeps over where the gasp was emitted from, I see the billowing of a green cloak and light brown hair. At once, I know.

There is no escaping now. She knows, and has figured it out in the worst way possible. She must have followed me. She must have.

Tears prick my eyes as I turn back to my meal. Dante lies there, draped in my arms and unconscious. Not hungry any further, I decide to spare him tonight and lie him down in the alleyway after compelling him. Then I hasten down the dark road, trying to stay out of sight, as I debate what to tell her. Why did my daughter have to find out this way, of all situations?

_Oh, Atira, please do not believe me a monster_, I pray. Tears drip down my cheeks uncontrollably as I return to the mansion from which I left. _Please don't hate me, daughter, for I still love you dearly._


	13. Shadowed Secrets

_Previously: Katherine found her daughter (Atira) and the two of them have begun to travel the world together. When Katherine found her, Atira was eight years old. At thirteen years old, Atira discovered in the dark of night that her mother is a creature of the night. While feeding on a drunkard in Florence, Italy, Katherine heard a gasp and spotted her daughter hastening down an alley. She had just witnessed Katherine feeding._

**Italy, June of 1503**

The tall wooden door of the mansion clicks shut behind me. Dread fills my soul as I walk along the corridor back to my bedroom. As I near Atira's chamber, I hesitate at the doorway. I can hear her soft breath on the other side of the door, as if she were waiting for me. Backing away, I hastily make my way to my chambers.

I cannot deal with this tonight. Not ever. What do I say? What do I do? I have never been very good with the concept of parenting, and this secret, this very large secret, is not something to be dealt with lightly. Atira will either run, screaming bloody murder, or she will accept it. And neither one of those options is acceptable in my mind.

The night slowly passes by as my thoughts continuously loop. Sunlight soon creeps up the bed and drapes itself over my eyes, harshly whispering _'Get up, get up, it's time to rise. You need to tell her and face your demise._'

The iron bed frame shakes as I stretch, yawning tiredly. It is sunrise, and shadows still hide in corners of the room like secrets. I scowl. Shadows. Secrets. The truth. It's all too much to handle.

Around noon later that day, I call for Atira to meet me in the garden. The air is crisp and cool as I bounce over the springy green grass. Up ahead, behind the back of the mansion, are stepping stones leading into the heart of a flower bed. Violet pansies and scarlet roses dot the surroundings as lengthy vines swing from the tree branches.

I close my eyes, enjoying the heat of the sun beating down on my skin and the gravely feel of the earth beneath my bare feet.

"Over here, mama," A soft voice calls.

My eyes snap open.

There she sits, on a tall stone in the middle of the garden, her knees pulled up to her chest. My little beauty.

Atira's light brown hair falls in gentle waves over her back, covering the bodice of her light blue dress. Her dark brown eyes peer up into mine, explaining her seriousness without words.

Taking a deep breath, I ask, "Did thou enjoy breakfast?"

Atira's brown eyes flash at me, "Quit the banter, Katerina. I know."

My smile falters, and I can feel a sick nervousness creeping into my expression. Hesitation overwhelms me.

Atira continues, saying, "I know what you are. What you've done. I know everything!" Her voice grows an octave louder with each sentence. I swallow. My eyes flicker to and fro, confirming that we are alone in the garden.

"Atira, it is not as it appears. Please, let me explain," I beg of her, slowly approaching her.

Atira's brown doe eyes grow wide in fright. She scampers back, falling off the rock. A puff of dust rises from under her as she hits the dirt ground. "Stay away from me!"

I can feel my heart breaking, cracking, shattering all at once. It is not supposed to happen like this. It cannot.

"Atira, tell me something," I seethe as my eyes flash and defense kicks in, "Have I ever hurt you?"

She shakes her head slowly, disbelievingly. Her long hair catches on a tree branch nearby as it flies through the air.

"Do you remember what you said to me five years ago when I first met you?"

Lips trembling, she shakes her head once more. Her eyes are wide, both frightened and curious. I take a step closer, and bend down. Her breath hitches, and she holds it in.

I can see her calculating an escape, and it melts my heart.

"We were going to ride some horses, in a valley that you had found. You had said, 'I trust you, Katerina.' If you trusted me then, why do you not trust me now?" I ponder anxiously. "I am still the same, Atira. I would never hurt you. You are my daughter, my own blood and flesh. You are the more precious than the world itself. You are the sun and the moon, all in one. I shall never hurt you."

Pausing, I take a quivering breath, pushing back a stray hair of mine. Looking straight into Atira's eyes, I ask her, "Do you love me still?"

Quite suddenly she appears confused. Eyebrows knit together; she looks down and picks at her dress. There is a loose seam, and she pulls at the thread. After a minute, she glances up with tears brimming her eyes.

"Of course I love you," She replies. Her brown eyes meet mine, and she smiles waveringly. "You are my mother, Katerina. How can I not love you? You have been there for me through everything, and… I should have repaid you similarly.

"I had doubts. I had fears. I have known for a while, now, and though I refused to believe it, I needed to confirm them.

"I… Alizabyth and Garazold used to tell me fables about creatures of the night. The malicious predators that wandered the streets, terrorizing men. How they greedily drank their blood and carelessly tossed their bodies in the street.

"For months, I have heard thy door open some nights. I have heard thou creeping from thine chambers to enter the street. My ears are good, thou knows," Atira sobs brokenheartedly. Her brown eyes pierce mine with accusations and worry. "Katerina, be truthful.

"Is- Is it true? Have my eyes deceived me, or are the horrors true? Did thou…" Atira whispers, trailing off into nothingness. Eyes glassy, she looks broken. Her hands are clasped together as if she is praying, and she is rocking back and forth.

Slowly, I approach Atira. Her eyes follow my feet as I grow near, though she does not attempt to make a move.

Her small figure is light in my strong arms as I lift her off the dirty ground. Atira trembles in my arms as I rise from my kneeling position as she looks up at me.

I used to carry her to bed like this, when she was still eight years old. She would fall asleep by the fire outside of the cabin my friend Thaymer was lending us, and I would be forced to carry the sleeping child to bed and tuck her in softly. I would sit next to the bed for a few minutes, stroking her forehead as I watched her sleep, thinking how lucky I was to have found her before Klaus. Before anything bad could happen to her. Soon enough, though, I would be forced to dampen the burning embers outside, all that was left of the blazing fire.

As she stares into my eyes in the vibrant garden of Italy, I can feel her relaxing in my arms; trusting me once more.

I whisper, "Please trust me."

With a hesitant, confirming nod from Atira, I check for witnesses and when none appear in my vision, I race to the secluded field I had found months ago, where I am positive no one resides. The wind ruffles our hair and dresses as my quick speed, much faster and stronger than a human, sweeps us along. Each foot barely hits the dirt before it is up again, pounding away at the soil as I flee from my fears and reality.

I know what Atira is feeling. Fear and confusion and anxiety and shock. Maybe even a little exhilaration and excitement, though I would not bank on it.

But for her to understand, I need the field. Where we can yell and I can demonstrate, and I can reason with her logical mind. The field, where no one will hear us and no one will witness what I have to admit to my beautiful daughter. A dangerous secret. A confining secret. One that has tied me down for years.

It is finally unraveling.

My eyes scavenge the forest until we emerge from the dense trees and break into a wide open meadow. The field.

Covered in majestic flowers and stunning life, it appears similar to one of the most dangerous places in the world. But also one of the most beautiful. It looks exactly like where it all began, and that is why I need to tell Atira my story here.

If only there was a brick mansion to the right and a small cottage to the left; it would be an exact replica. A replica of the home of Klaus and Elijah, where the fleeing began.

"It is beautiful," Atira breathes as she slips from my arms. As soon as her feet touch the ground, she bends down to pick up a flower. I knew she would like it.

"Yes," I agree. It feels like pins and needles, this truth that is weighing me down.

"So," Atira hesitates, "thou have lied to me."

"No," I exclaim. "I have protected you, Atira. Thy life should not be spent fearing the known. I suppose I believed that thou would never discover the secret, and thus it would never be an issue. I was wrong. Atira, tell me. What did thou witness?"

Her brown doe eyes flit back and forth over the ground as though searching for something. Fear creeps into her voice as she dredges up the memory again. She whispers, "Well, it was dark, Katerina. I was curious. I wanted to know where you had been escaping to the past few nights. Maybe it was a lover, I had told myself. I simply wanted confirmation. But this – this I did not expect.

"The alley was dark, and I watched as the man approached you. I could not hear you, but the moon provided sufficient light. I- I watched you bite the man, Katerina. He moaned. And then I saw the blood.

"It took a few minutes for the meaning to sink in. I- I still have my doubts. Tell me it is not true, mama. Please," Atira pleads, sinking to the ground. Her blue dress billows around her as she crumbles, tears streaming down her fragile cheeks.

Biting my lip, I take a shaky breath. I cannot cry now. _Atira needs my strength_, I tell myself. But it is futile, for the tears form on their own accord. Soon enough, my shaking breaths wrack my chest and sobs escape my lips.

Atira crawls closer to me, and places her palm in mine. She glances up at me determinedly, asking, "Art thou wicked?"

"I- I know not," I reply brokenheartedly.

She takes a deep breath and her brown eyes pierce mine as she replies, "I think not.

"I think thou art broken. Damaged, like me. Thou never related thy past to me. Who turned thee? Why? How?" Atira whispers.

Looking down, I ignore the questions. To admit that to Atira would open up a string of emotions; emotions that I have long since buried in the past. Truth that would mold a villain out of me even more.

"Atira, I need to confess something," I admit. The whole truth spills out of me, right then and there. I am a blubbering mess as I confess all about Klaus and Elijah to a horrified Atira. Despite her terrors, she refuses to run. It gives me hope. It strengthens me as I tell her the last of the story.

I admit how she was born out of wedlock, but I relinquish any mention of her father. I do not wish that she knows his cowardice in leaving me. I tell her of Klaus and Elijah, and my discovery of them in England. But I do not tell her what they planned to do with me, only that they kept me prisoner. I recall how I was turned into a vampire, but abandon the thought of admitting that my family was murdered.

And so only half the truth arose. But I hope that it is enough for Atira to make the decision.

Through her light brown eyelashes, Atira peers up at me curiously. Tears brim her eyes as she asks, "What became of my father? Of thy family?"

"Thy father was a coward, Atira," I whisper defiantly. "He loved thou and I, but could not face the authority of my father. Thus, he left."

"And the rest of the family?" Atira wonders.

I look downward. "Well," I purse my lips sorrowfully, "They are somewhere better."

Taking a deep breath, I look up, into the horizon. The sun is beginning to set, casting beautiful pink and purple rays of light over the meadow. In the distance are mountains, gloriously rising above the rest of the earth. As the birds sing and the tree leaves rustle, I smile knowingly.

The world is a mysterious place, full of mistakes and lies. But as gilded as it may seem, the true beauty lies beneath, in a hidden valley of treasure. And that treasure is the truth.

* * *

**Thank you for reading this story. I cannot possibly explain how happy it makes me that people are actually reading my writing. There are so many Vampire Diaries fanfictions out there, and the fact that you are reading MINE is incredible. So thank you, just for that. Of course, a review would be nice, but I won't require it :) **

**Though this chapter was short, I will try to update soon. I haven't lost interest on this story; it is still as glorious as ever in my mind. But I have taken a little break as you might have noticed. Well, I'm back now and I will try my best to keep the updates coming. **

**So thank you again for reading. Have a wonderful day!**


	14. Lost Again

**Hey guys! Told you I'd update :) well, here is another chapter. I really hope you like it. It was tons of fun to write and solve.**

**However, I am SO SORRY for the boredom in the beginning of this chapter. Please just bear with me. I think that though you'll be heartbroken, you'll end up liking it. I promise to update soon because I am on summer break now.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

_Previously: Atira discovered her mother's secret of vampirism. After a hectic conversation, she grew accustomed to the abnormalities of it all. _

**Ireland, November of 1504**

One year ago. That's all it was.

One year ago, Atira exploited my darkest secret. Graciously, she told no others.

Three months later, we fled Italy for a new land. Now Atira knew why we were running; she knew the reasons behind my actions. She knew what I had to leave behind to keep us safe. But it is obvious that she has begun to loathe it.

While Atira may tolerate what I am, I see the disappointment in her eyes at times. Though she takes care of me despite the chaos, she steers clear during the nights of which I hunt. I cannot blame her, of course, but it pains me to see her avoidance. Still, she is tolerable as I could ever hope.

The disappointment that Atira portrays is often accompanied by piqued curiosity, though she attempts to conceal such. With disgust comes interest. Mass murder causes inquisitive questioning. And so, despite the gruesome outlook, I understand that there is hope yet. Maybe, just maybe, there will be one day when Atira realizes that my presence is not so terrible; when she realizes that it truly is a way of life. That it is not any different from slaughtering livestock.

Truly, though, the difference between murdering a man and murdering livestock is not that great. The gap is nearly nonexistent, for all are animals. Should all not be treated equal? Do cows not have the right to live, similar to humans? I believe that the only difference in comprehension, and I have pondered this often, is that a man has a name, where livestock do not. It is a thousand times more difficult to kill an identity than it is to kill an idea, especially if there are an abundance of ideas. If I drained Paul of his blood, per se, Atira would grieve over him, desiring to know if he had a family or a wife; what his life would have been like. But if I kill one cow, when there are a thousand more unnamable cows to go around, it loses importance.

Thus, while I realize that Atira's worry and uneasiness is natural and true, it also becomes difficult to discern between what is correct or not. Thinking about this topic over long nights, I have come to the conclusion that I loathe Atira's hesitation around myself. While Atira feasts on the meat of livestock, I feast on something similar. It should not impact our relationship to this fragile degree.

Envy and rage have crept into my emotions over the past few months. Desire a human life, I do. For then I could skip this nonsense and raise my child as taught. So many opportunities could await her, without the threat of terrible beasts. There would be no hardships in my beloved's life, except for humane issues. It would be free of this, and we would be happy.

But, alas, that is not so.

"Katherine, a woman awaits your presence in the front," Atira calls from the wooden door of our quaint cottage.

After moving to Ireland, it was realized that the wealthy lifestyle was not for us. Neither Atira nor I cared much for the frivolous things that our neighbors so dearly desired. We had been content in the cottage of my dear friend Thaymer, and thus desired a similarly small abode. Therefore when we reached Ireland, we acquired such.

It is not much, but it suits our needs well. Sparsely decorated and containing only the necessitates, our home is far from what most would consider luxurious. Though to us, it is a castle.

With this small territory come fewer neighbors. Resting on a small hill only a half kilometer from the nearest town, our home is nestled deep in the woods. No traveler would stray into these woods without the constant fear of losing his trail. Only the locals would dare to visit, though they do not often.

"Coming," I reply as the sewing needles slip from my fingers and I stand up straight. Quickly pinching my cheeks to brighten my complexion, I make my way to the door. With my eyes down as custom calls, I dare not look up until I reach the threshold of the door for fear of being rude and rendering suspicion.

"Yes?" I wonder as my eyes wander upward.

The shoes are what I spot first; my memory is slow going, but after a second I recognize those shoes. Fear creeps up my spine. Do I dare look up further?

Embroidered with elegant details, the dress is simple yet wonderfully entrancing. And then I reach her face. Though I had expected it to be her, I still wheeze a startled gasp as recognition dawns.

"Hello again, _Katherine_," says the sly woman in front of me.

I swallow. Can she hear my pounding heartbeat? My shallow breaths? Can she see my fingers clenching behind my back?

My eyes narrow as I reply severely, "What doth thou desire, Rose?"

"All is well, I see," Rose peers over my shoulder, into the house, as she completely ignores my question. "And who is this beauty that answered the door?"

Glancing back over my shoulder, I find Atira hovering hesitantly. I narrow my eyes at her and tilt my head slightly, silently telling her to stay inside.

"Atira," I reply tersely. Then I repeat, "What doth thou desire, Rose?"

"May I enter thy home?"

After a slight second of hesitation, I answer, "Yes."

Soon enough, we are settled at the kitchen table, only her and I. Atira is meddling with something or the other in our bedroom.

Rose sips on the newly brewed tea, and I wonder when it will come up, for I know it will. I hope dearly that Atira will not hear it.

When I told Atira the story of my life, I relinquished the names, feeling it was unimportant that she know who those people were. I assumed that I would never cross them again. So when Rose came knocking on our door, I knew there was something she wanted. Perhaps an item, perhaps me. It is possible that she feels the need to repay Klaus for her inability to stop my vampirism. If that is the case, she would have no trouble dragging Atira and I back to his unforgiving hand. I would rather Atira not know that this woman, Rose, was the one who threatened to turn me in once again.

"Why are you here, Rose?"

Her expression lights up, "Thou shall never deduce what I have discovered."

"What is it?" I question, curious.

"News," She answers mysteriously. Taking a sip of her tea, she excuses saying more.

"On?"

"Klaus."

Impossible. For the past twelve years, I have asked acquaintances far and wide if they had heard of the whereabouts of this legend. And for those twelve years, there has been no luck. Until one day Rose comes knocking on my door. Suddenly she wishes to help me? And for nothing. She has ignored naming a price, and shall freely offer information. Of course, there must be a catch. It is Rose. She will not simply forget her desire to turn me into Klaus' ruthless hands.

A moment of silence is enough for her. A small smirk creeps up her lips and her eyes twinkle with a secret.

"Do you wish to know?" She asks.

I consider this. But only for a minute before inquiring, "For a price?"

She smirks, "Why of course. What pride would I keep otherwise?"

I snort, though completely unladylike. It is completely _Rose_ of her to do this. Right when I met her, I knew. I knew that she would be arrogant and rude, and downright obnoxious.

Once, I nod. One shake of the head and she opens up.

"I spoke directly with Klaus prior to two days ago," Rose begins, "He knocked upon my very door, and questioned thy whereabouts. Granted, I knew not, though it irked my interest. Never did he question my role in thy escape, thank the good Lord, but my confidence shook as he inquired about thou.

"He asked of thy family. If I knew anything. He asked of thy friends; who they were. And then he asked of a daughter he believed thou had birthed only a few years before you turned. That sparked my interest.

"Thou may wonder why Klaus came to I. Let me explain.

"Long before thou were birthed, I had been turned a creature of the dark. The one who turned and mentored I was Klaus. Ay, the Klaus that thou have been running from. The evil, malicious spirit.

"He was not that way back then. He was kind and sweet, and we fell in love. We were young and foolish. He had been keeping a secret from I. That was our demise. When he unveiled his vampirism, I was intrigued. But he misinterpreted my curiosity. He believed that I, too, desired the immortality of his family. And thus, he turned me," Rose spits, fury lighting up her sharp brown eyes.

"But he was sorely wrong. Thus, I despise his presence. Though I still respect him, unlike some," she says, glaring at me pointedly. "Anyhow, Klaus and I met when we fell in love. Though much has changed throughout the years, we have kept in contact from time to time."

I interrupt, utterly confused and impatient, "But what does this have to do with I?"

She smiles slyly, "Well, darling, that all depends. Doth thou desire to know the whereabouts of Klaus or not?"

I do. I so desperately do. I tell her so eagerly.

"Is it a deal?" She checks.

"Deal," I reply, thirsty for knowledge. Though I do not recognize what I am signing away, I require his whereabouts. Anything to escape his wrath.

"Klaus is visiting Ireland currently, though I believe thou art safe. He shall move onto Spain in a few days, for that his where he thinks his best chances of discovering thou are. I did not correct him, for at the time I, too, knew not of your whereabouts.

"If thou choose to remain in this cottage, he should not discover thou. If needed, I can always lead him astray, too. He plans to scavenge all of Europe for the next few decades. Of course, he confides in me often, and thus I shall always know where he shall be next. I may relate this information to you at a price."

"What price?"

Rose frowns, obviously upset at the interruption. "I shall touch on that soon.

"As I was saying, Klaus also told me that when he discovers thy presence, he shall also uncover thy daughter and together thou shall be burned at the stake."

I can feel my face visibly paling at this statement. Shall he ever find Atira; I will gladly give my life a hundred times over before that monster touches a hair on her head.

She continues, "Klaus is quite unforgiving, Katerina. He means what he says."

"I know," I whisper sullenly.

"In addition, as I spoke with him I learned that he is once again on his own. Neither his sister nor his brothers are supporting his quest for thou."

"He has a sister? And more than one brother?" I wonder intuitively.

"Yes, but that is not of importance," Rose replies impatiently, "All that matters is that he is alone in his search, Katerina. And that implies that it will take much longer. When he says he shall search one day for thou, it will take a month. Three months means a year. And at the same time, thoroughness becomes an issue. Katerina, thou art safe for a while so long as he remains unaided in his quest." Rose sighs and lifts her cup to take a sip.

I, too, take a minute to sip at the warm drink.

It is another whole minute before I break the silence. I question, "Is that all?"

"Yes."

Standing up, I push in my chair as I assume that Rose will now desire to leave. But she sits patiently still, unmoving in the kitchen chair.

"What is it?" I wonder.

"The price thou need to pay."

Pursing my lips, I attempt to conceal my rage. Swallowing back a mouthful of insults, I inquire, "What is it? The price, I mean."

"Atira."

"What?" I gasp, unsure if I heard her correctly.

"The price is thou kin, Katerina," She glares, her voice sharp and demanding. "Thou swore to pay the price."

"But my daughter!"

"Yes."

Enraged, I hiss, "But 'tis unfair!"

"No," Rose replies simply, " 'Tis not."

"Why," I sputter, "Thou art a conman. A cruel conman."

She smirks, eyes glowing. " 'Tis how I was raised. So, the price."

"I shall not give thou my daughter," I whisper viciously, "What art thou thinking?"

"If thou allow thy daughter to live with me, she shall forever be protected. If out of the blue Klaus happens to knock on thy door one day, there shall be no extra body and thus no explanations. He shall not find thy daughter, and thus cannot harm her."

"But Klaus visits thou," I point out the flaw in her plan.

"Ay," Rose admits, "But I shall lie. Atira appears nothing similar to thou, Katerina. He shall be none the wiser if I consider Atira a friend or relative. He shall not know, so long as Atira knows not to mention thy name."

I breathe in a shaky sigh.

Rose whispers threateningly, "Barely a minute ago, I related imperative information to thou. If thou do not wish to pay the price, I am always able to kill her."

"I…" Biting my lip, I shake my head. Brunette curls fly all over the place as I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to think. Fingers on my temples, I realize that there really are only two choices. Let Atira go with Rose, or have Rose kill her.

There are no other options. Rose is stronger and faster than I by much, granted she is much older as well. She could overpower both Atira and I in seconds. And seeing as I would never wish my only daughter death, I suppose there is only one choice.

The door on the other side of the room clicks open before I can say anything.

"Let her take me, mama," Atira whispers for me. With light brown hair sweeping over the left side of her face and tears brimming her brown eyes, she walks forward toward us.

My throat closes tightly as sobs threaten to break through.

"No, Atira," I whisper back. My voice cracks and I can feel a tear slip smoothly down my cheek.

Ignoring me, she turns to Rose and confidently says, "Let us go."

Shock ripples through me, and I spring into action. Jumping down in front of Atira, I try to get her to look at me, to talk to me; anything.

"No, no, no," I whisper furiously, "This cannot happen. Please, Rose, take anything else. Just not Atira; anything but Atira."

"I am quite sorry, Katerina," Rose says stiffly, "but it is for the best."

And with that, she touches Atira's shoulder. As they turn to go, Rose opens the door. Then in one graceful swoop, she lifts Atira into her arms and takes off with her, running faster than ever before.

In one blur, in one second, in one moment, they are gone. My precious daughter and a woman I loathe; gone.

My gasps and sobs, wracking my body, fill the empty cottage with terrible wails.

For the second time, I have lost my daughter. My beautiful, perfect little daughter has been stolen away from me time and time again.

Dread fills my heart, and I cannot help but feel that this was the last time I shall ever see my daughter. As though in agreement, the door creaks emptily, still swinging in the breeze of Rose and Atira's absence.

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